


Where the Wild Things Are

by SalamanderInk



Category: Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: (not to the main character however), Alien Loki, Alpha Loki (Marvel), Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, BAMF Emma Frost, BAMF Tony Stark, Bottom Tony Stark, Developing Relationship, Discrimination, Emma Frost is a Good Friend, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Eventual Smut, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Smut, Fluffy Ending, Gentleness, God of the Forest Loki, Happy Ending, Howard Stark's Bad Parenting, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Knotting, Loki (Marvel) is a Good Bro, M/M, Mentor Emma Frost, Omega Tony Stark, Past Abuse, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Protective Loki (Marvel), Psychological Trauma, Recovery, Slow Romance, Survivor Tony, Tony Feels, Tony Stark Has Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder, Tony Stark Has Trust Issues, Top Loki (Marvel), Trust Kink, Wolf Shifter Loki, Wooing, actual god loki, implied/referenced societally accepted rape, manipulative tony
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-26
Updated: 2020-07-19
Packaged: 2021-03-03 01:26:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 17
Words: 37,089
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24386668
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SalamanderInk/pseuds/SalamanderInk
Summary: "Problem" Omega Tony is offered in sacrifice to the Forest God, a huge Alpha Wolf that doesn't scare him nearly as much as the prospect of living the rest of his life as Ty's arm-candy mate.Until the wolf turns out to be a shapeshifter. That... changes things
Relationships: Emma Frost & Tony Stark, Loki/Tony Stark
Comments: 348
Kudos: 1198
Collections: FrostIron*, Wile Away The Time





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [QuietCanadian9](https://archiveofourown.org/users/QuietCanadian9/gifts), [Wolfloner](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wolfloner/gifts), [thebifrostgiant](https://archiveofourown.org/users/thebifrostgiant/gifts).



> So I strated writing this fic January 2019. I was new in the Frostiron Discord Server, and I think it was Stars? who posted a manga cover about a pretty boy with wolf ears and a huge wolf just behind, and challenged us to write a prompt from it. I wrote about 6k of a very very nsfw prompt, and thus writing my first smut scene on live, under the cheers of everyone who was around at the time.  
> And then I was told I could post it! Since, really, everything was plotted out already, and the end was already written, and all that...  
> So I started fluffing it up a little, prettying it, filling the blanks...;  
> And then it grew, and grew, and _grew_.  
> But! I finally finished it up, and here is my (very) long awaited 'wolf Loki' fic. 
> 
> A few more warnings:  
> This is an A/b/O universe, heavy on the discrimination. Some very bad things are implied, but I don't think there's anything more than bullying happening on screen, and the situation is one the mc no longer has to deal with (but has had to deal with in the past). So; warnings for abuse and past trauma, and slow recovery; and small glimpses into a really fucked up society.

The bindings were tight against his wrists, but they certainly didn’t cut as deep as the feeling of absolute betrayal he felt at being handed over to his death by the people he called family. 

He wasn’t surprised of course, never that. He might have been expecting it actually. After all, it wasn’t the first time they’d thrown him to the wolves, this time it was just a bit more literal than before is all. 

What worth was an omega, after all, if not as a convenient currency when money didn’t do the trick? 

And what worth was a problematic omega that didn’t know its place? 

Apparently, Tony’s worth was actually kibble. 

_ How demeaning _ , he thought, as the huge beast growled back at his father. 

Then again, better dog food than pretty ornament in Stone’s mansion. It was certainly an upgrade. 

Bitterly, he looked at his father from the corner of his eye and wondered if he would ever have second thoughts about giving his son over to what he clearly believed to be a gruesome death.  _ Probably not. It’s not like he was giving away anything he cared about anyway.  _

The white teeth of the wolf snapped close before his face, and he jumped in fright. Apparently he (it?) didn’t like being ignored. Behind him, Tony could still hear his father droning on,  _ negotiating _ as though he wasn’t absolutely shaking in his boots. 

Exhorting Tony’s virtues, as if he actually believed that he had any value. 

_ Except maybe his pedigree and his untouched ass.  _

Tony grit his teeth and stayed silent. As much as he would like to tell the hypocritical bastard off, he knew better. It wouldn’t do any good. 

The interpreter kept droning on with his nasally voice and Uncle Obie laughed his fake I-am-an-old-friend-trust-me laugh. Tony could tell, he had fallen for it more than once. 

He kept his eyes on the wolf’s. It was a huge beast, with shaggy black fur, and brilliant green eyes, every bit the forest god it (he?) had claimed to be. 

The pointed ears and long fluffy tail were cute though. The five inch fangs were less so. 

The wolf wasn’t taken in by Obie’s laugh, but then again, the nervous undercurrents had quite undermined the usual effect. But something in the cunning glint of green eyes told Tony that even at his best, Obie wouldn’t have managed to fool that one. 

In the end, apparently the god was satisfied with his offering, because the three villagers that had dragged him there left him alone, turning back to the village without a single glance back. 

And Tony had expected it. __

_ So why did that still hurt? _

They left him there. Alone with a wolf that was taller on four legs than he was on two, and while he wasn’t tall by any stretch of the imagination, that wolf was a bloody giant. It would kill him in a single snap of his jaws. 

The wolf brought its snout right before his face, sniffing him and then lowering his muzzle against his jaw, a cold wet nose brushing against his neck. 

Tony froze. 

His father had sold him out to save his own hide. And now he was going to die, the wolf would snap his jaws open and bite down and Tony would never get to do all those things that would show Howard that he wasn’t just useless breeding stock like his gender indicated but an actual genius in his own right, he’d never get to travel and see the world, he’d never get to finish his robot project, he would… 

Get his neck released? 

The too tight uncomfortable leather collar around his neck fell to the ground as huge teeth carefully sliced it opened, and then a large smooth tongue soothed the irritated skin that had chafed during the days it had been on him. 

The collar had been Obie’s idea, to leave him leashed and shackled to keep him from running away once he’d learned what his father planned to do with him. 

He’d only stopped resisting once Howard blocked the air ducts however, too faint and panicked from asphyxiation to put up a fight, and his struggles had been enough to start irritating the skin, and since no one ever removed the bonds afterwards the skin only got worse. 

Of course it hadn’t been dressed up like that to the rest of the village who had come to see him off, Tony contemplated as the muzzle left his neck with a parting lick. 

Omegas loved the feeling of pressure on those particular sensitive points. Cuffs and collars were often given as gifts to insecure or sensitive omegas, as a way to soothe their nerves and reassure them. They exerted pressure and weight on specific pressure points that made omegas more settled, though some used them to make them malleable, docile. It also helped them regulate the output of their smell. 

People probably only ever saw a caring gesture from a concerned family doing their best to soothe their spooked omega. Once again proof that people were stupid and only ever saw what they wanted to see. 

The wolf then stepped back from him, just far enough that Tony didn’t have his nose buried in fur anymore, and turned his head down, gazing at the cuffs cutting into his wrists with a low rumble. 

Tony obediently lifted his bound hands next, he wasn’t about to refuse some relief from the uncomfortable shackles that had actually started breaking through his skin. 

The wolf was terribly gentle as he slipped a fang under too tight bonds and sliced them open. 

Tony was amazed that he didn’t even get so much as a scratch in the process, though that took a backseat in his mind when the painful feeling of blood rushing back into numbed limbs caught him. 

He gasped, curling in on his hands protectively as the scalding feeling of pins and needles stabbed through currently useless hands. 

A glance down showed them bright red and slightly swollen, but his experienced eyes didn’t detect anything that would cause long term damage. 

Though he knew better than to let them come into contact with anything in such a state, the pain would be debilitating. 

A whine and a gentle nudge brought his attention back to the wolf at his side. Apparently, even animals had more decency than his family. Would wonders ever cease? 

Tony offered the wolf a wobbly smile and straightened up. Now that the first wave of pain was over, he could push through. 

“I am fine, Sir Wolf. Thank you for your consideration.” 

It didn’t cost anything to be polite, after all. 

The wolf grumbled, it obviously didn’t agree with his assessment, though it didn’t look like he would argue. Tony was amazed at how expressive he looked, even with his face so far from a human’s and no words to communicate, Tony could clearly perceive his intent. 

And clearly the wolf didn’t feel aggressive towards him in the slightest. His head lowered, movements slow and steady, he brought his muzzle back to the injury and sniffed. 

Tony held very still, the prospect of acute pain in such close proximity of a creature with teeth that size was not in any way reassuring, and yet the wolf seemed to feel his unease, moving his muzzle up, above the inflammation, and gave a soothing lick to the skin of his inner elbow. 

Tony shivered and smiled, oddly reassured by the gesture. He felt bare and unanchored without the cuffs, but he was glad that those torture tools were in pieces, and the presence of the wolf by his side gave him some grounding. 

“Maybe we should go?” Tony was hesitant to break the status quo between the two, but while he couldn’t trust people’s words but he usually managed to read their eyes just fine, and these were kind. And he was growing cold, and tired after having spent so much time locked up. 

The wolf didn’t need much convincing before nudging him forward gently, and Tony, for the first time since he realized what his condition meant, felt hope. 


	2. Chapter 2

Living with a wolf was… an adjustment. 

The wolf didn’t talk, for one, and it didn’t demand his silence, contrary to everyone else he’d met. Even those he’d considered friends once upon a time. 

For another thing, the wolf had no hands to threaten him with. Sure he could snarl and bare his teeth, but Tony didn’t have to keep watching for a threat in his peripheral vision. Also, a snarl was more of a part of communication than a way to assert dominance and authority through violence. 

The wolf wasn’t violent. 

He tended to guide him around with soft nudges of his snout and questioning whines. He also carried things around in his mouth, which was sufficiently humorous to distract him from his lingering fears. 

Living in a wolf’s territory was quite strange. 

The wolf’s living space was a cave, or a network of caves, which wasn’t unexpected, but it was furnished and appointed with all the comforts of a modern home, which was quite pleasant but also rather peculiar since he knew, somehow, that he was the first human to step foot here. There was a heaviness in the air, the feel of something sacred that made him tiptoe those first few days. It reminded him that the wolf was no mere wolf but a god of the land and that he deserved respect. 

Though it was hard to remember that when the hulking beast curled around his legs like a cat or demanded belly rubs on his back. 

Somehow it kinda negated the whole threatening aura thing. 

Living as part of the wolf’s territory was surprisingly peaceful. 

Essentially, it meant that the wolf took care of him. 

Tony had been surprised when the first thing it had done upon arriving in the cave was to bring him first aid supplies, and a vial of paste that was supposed to go on his wounds. 

The effect had been instantaneous, the swelling going down and the pain vanishing in a matter of minutes. 

Through it all, the wolf stayed pressed up against his side, offering comfort and safety. 

At some point, Tony had wondered if the wolf kept him to breed him, like in the horror stories told to young omegas when Elders wanted to keep them in line, but the beast made no indication of such behavior. 

Certainly that was what his father had expected when he sold him out. And Tony had spent more than a week locked in the basement, dreading such a thing, but it seemed his fear was for naught. 

Maybe it realized that their bodies weren’t compatible, or that he was too fragile, but the wolf never made an indication that it was thinking of him that way. 

That didn’t stop him from marking him as part of his territory, rubbing his scent all over him, herding him around, maybe growling a little and licking over his pulse points. 

And also showering him with gifts. Tony didn’t know where they came from, but he was halfway sure that those were also shows of possessiveness, albeit in a way that reminded him more of humans than wolves. 

For instance, the wolf basically demanded that he changed his clothing to some that he had provided for him. That didn’t appear too strange to him since his old clothes probably smelled like strangers, but the color scheme was intriguing. It matched the rest of the decor, deep green and gold. 

Almost like the wolf wanted him to be clad in his colors. 

And he would have thought that he was reading too much into it if it weren’t for the other gifts. 

The soft padded cuffs in green leather inlaid with silky fur, for instance, as far as cuffs could be from the utilitarian contraptions that were biting into his wrists just days before. And yet they had that anchoring effect that had Tony so torn about wearing cuffs, needing them and hating them at the same time. 

Tony didn’t hate those cuffs. They felt like freedom and independence. They weren’t anything close to a symbol of servitude, a humiliating device that outlined the way he felt so scattered and anxious without something to ground him, or like a crutch that compensated for an innate deficiency. 

They felt like jewelry, like armor. Like something pretty and precious that you give a loved one to keep them safe and happy. 

There was no lock, no key. It wasn't a shackle but something he could actually remove himself, large buckles easily accessible and still elegant. 

Whenever Tony felt uncomfortable or uncertain about his situation, he just looked back at those cuffs and felt better. There was someone who had given him the means to feel secure on his own, someone who cared enough to make sure that he was comfortable. It made him feel… cherished. Like someone had decided that he was… worth something. 

That was a strange thing to feel, for a male omega. 

Empowering, somehow. 

Tony liked it. 

Somehow, he ended up wearing them all the time, along with the soft, warm, comfortable clothes and the various pieces of jewelry that the wolf kept gifting him. 

They were beautiful works, some made of finely crafted gold, some made of polished wood, others in pretty green stones that Tony couldn’t name, and they all seemed to relate to the wolf-god’s Forest in some way. Some delicate gold charms that resembled fallen leaves, others delicate branches covered in blossoms, a few moons and stars… 

It was a strange feeling, receiving these precious things and knowing they were for him. That the wolf thought he deserved them. 

So he tried to do nice things in return, to prove himself deserving of such care, but it really wasn’t in his nature. He had never been a typical omega, and subservience suited him ill. Shows of humility made his skin crawl, and he found that without the constant threat and mistreatment he was facing at the academy, and with the soothing weight around his wrists, he just couldn’t bring himself to debase himself in such a way. 

Though perhaps an omega who deserved such gifts… was not expected to act as he had been “taught”?

The wolf didn’t object to his not-subservient-not-omega behavior, so maybe? It was always pretty clear with the things he didn’t accept, either through low growls, snarls if he still didn’t comply, and on one memorable occasion, sharp teeth snapping right before his face. 

Though, as it turned out that the warning had ended up saving him from a nasty fall, he wasn’t certain that it counted. Most of the time, Tony felt far more like a wayward puppy being herded away from danger than the second class citizen that he was back home. 

So Tony took advantage of the relative freedom, and explored. 

Not outside, he wasn’t allowed, and he didn’t have any place to return to anyway, but the cave system was extensive, and the wolf’s territory was sprawled over most of it. 

The den itself, the part that was the most home-like, consisted of only a few rooms, but there were many openings beyond them, going deeper inside the mountain. Most of those caves seemed to be empty, still in their natural state, but some were treasure troves of miscellaneous items, some natural, others clearly man made. 

Tony thrived in the discovery and the exploration, and the thrill of adventure that he felt each time he found a new hidden niche. 

The wolf was never too far from him, but by now his presence was more of a reassurance than anything, a silent protector. One with huge teeth and fluffy fur, who loved cuddles and never hurt him. 

After a few days, it became routine. The two adjusted to each other’s boundaries, and they were cohabiting peacefully. 

The wolf brought back some food before the sunrise, and then woke Tony up by playfully licking his neck. And after batting his nuzzle away, a laughing Tony would get up to cook for them both. 

Afterwards, Tony took a torch with him to go explore the outer caves. Contrary to the den area, they were dark and damp, and definitely not the cozy space that Tony had grown used to the past few days. But the wolf was still there, catching him before he stumbled, being a steady warmth at his side. 

When Tony got tired, he went back to the warmth of the wolf’s home. He could lounge around the soft rugs and plump pillows that covered the floor, or curl up near the fireplace, or even go rest on the fluffy mattress in the bedroom. Often, the wolf would flop down beside him like a warm blanket and cuddle with him, asking for pettings and rumbling contentedly. 

He still slept a lot, but he was still recovering from Howard’s treatment, and the Academy before that. It had been years since he last found himself healthy and energetic. Since he could eat to his heart’s content and sleep without fear. 

Already in the week he had spent in the wolf’s den, he felt better, more rested. He could finally let his guard down. 

He never wanted anything to change. He felt at peace there, with no one around but his wolf. 

And it was then, while Tony was feeling so warm and happy, that his wolf just crumpled to the ground with a pained cry. 


	3. Chapter 3

Tony watched, helpless and terrified, as his friend and protector shuddered on the ground, making soft heart wrenching whines. 

He was crouching besides the huge wolf, his hands hovering hesitantly over the black fur, not daring to touch in fear of hurting him more than he already was. 

As his limbs seemed to spasm, the pained cries heightened in pitch before falling silent. 

Tony’s heart stopped. 

His vision seemed to blur for a second, the air around them twisting like a mirage, before the wolf’s body seemed to  _ contort _ , and  _ shift.  _

Before Tony’s disbelieving eyes, the wolf’s muzzle flattened and sunk into his face, his joints shifted, lengthening legs, forming feet and long fingered hands, and as the decidedly  _ human  _ body before him groaned as the fur receded down under his skin. 

The man… the  _ Alpha _ , because if he never acknowledged the wolf as such, it was no longer possible to ignore in this new shape,  _ with this new smell _ , shuddered one last time, before unfolding himself, sitting up straight, and stretching his arms high up over his head. 

He was absolutely, entirely,  _ naked _ . 

He was also gorgeous. 

Tony watched, mesmerized, the play of lithe, powerful muscles rolling smoothly under pale healthy skin, staring unabashedly at the show that he was pretty sure the man-wolf was putting up for his sake, letting him look his fill. 

If he hadn’t seen it happen, he would have never known that the man before him had ever been anything but a powerful alpha. He looked entirely human. Just as the wolf had looked entirely wolf and there had never been any indication otherwise, at any time he had been in contact with Tony’s village. 

He had only been The Wolf, God of the Forest. He had needed a priest to translate his thoughts and intents into mortal speech. He had let everyone believe that he would just take Tony and ravage him. 

And yet, now he was a man. 

A really really good looking one. 

An  _ Alpha. _

Tony shivered. He may not have known many wolves, nor many gods, but he had met many an alpha before. 

He moved back cautiously as the alpha slowly stood up, testing his limbs apparently, and started slowly walking to the cauldron in the fire pit that Tony had completely forgotten about when he’d seen his friend… his  _ then  _ friend, in distress. 

Tony didn’t know what to think about this. 

The alpha was still naked. 

Tony averted his eyes and wondered if he should feel betrayed or worried. 

Both were perfectly appropriate and justified reactions in his opinion. After all, he’d managed to get out of under an entitled jerk’s thumb, away from an arrangement that would have put him under another useless abusive and probably rapist jerk, and he’d braved the wolf and just when he thought he could be comfortable and safe, his wolf turned out to be….

Tony closed his eyes and inhaled slowly, trying to remove the abject fear from his lungs on the exhale. His eyes fell on the cuffs holding his wrists tight. Were they too made to be shackles despite what he thought? 

Looking them over again, with new eyes, he still couldn’t find any place to attach a ring or a leash to them. It didn’t really mean anything, there were other ways, and yet he chose to maybe give the man the benefit of the doubt. 

The wolf had been good to him. Maybe the alpha would not… be alpha-like ? 

_ Yeah right.  _

Shaking his head, Tony turned back to the stranger, watching him settle down gracefully beside the cooking pot, breathing in the smell of food that managed to somehow not be too overcooked. 

He’d apparently gotten used to his new limbs already. Tony couldn’t help but notice the smooth predatory movements, the deliberateness of each gesture, the grace, the power in the limbs… 

As his gaze wandered down (again) he wondered if it would be that bad to let it happen? Stranger for stranger, at least this one was attractive. 

And he hadn’t spent the past few years making lewd suggestions and laughing meanly, talking at him like he was a new piece of furniture that he wanted to own for the sake of spite and pettiness. 

Then again, putting the bar above Ty Stone wasn’t putting it very high. 

Tony huddled on himself, keeping the stranger in his sight. He didn’t really want to be fucked by a stranger. Even if he was handsome, with a lithe body, long dark hair and very very sharp cheekbones. Even if Tony found him attractive. He was tired of being seen as just a piece of meat. 

Sharp predatory eyes cut to him and Tony froze. 

It was an intense stare, but not a hostile one. Nor was it lecherous. More… assessing. Steady. 

The more Tony held the stranger’s eyes, the more they felt familiar. They were just as green as the wolf’s, just as piercing and clever. 

While the shape was different, those were still the wolf’s eyes. 

And Tony knew the wolf. 

_ Maybe he really could give him a chance.  _

Under the familiar scrutiny of a wolf’s gaze, Tony slowly relaxed and stood, joining a stranger over a meal. 

Only time could tell if it was a mistake. 


	4. Chapter 4

Tony squirmed in his pillow. He was still uncomfortable but he had no trouble finding out why. Everything felt new, awkward, unsafe. Especially compared to the routine he'd made with his wolf. How he would just flop against his side and make himself comfortable as he ate, how he would tell him stories and never stop speaking, enthusiastic and unworried. 

He'd never felt that free before. 

But now he was seated in front of a man, a naked man who still smelled a bit like wolf but too much like alpha, a scent that had him torn between want and apprehension. The man —a stranger but not quite— was polite, courteous even, but Tony knew better than to take that at face value. 

He hated how hesitant it made him, but being alone with a strange alpha, with any alpha, was enough to make the alarm bells rings through his mind and an entire field of red flags wave before his face. 

Especially if they were of the friendly sort. 

He'd heard it all before. “Getting to know you” usually meant more than just polite conversation, and the alphas who did this usually only had one thing in mind. 

Nonetheless, he  _ was _ intrigued by the stranger-who-had-been-his-wolf. The man who called himself Loki, God of the Forest, who was shameless in his nudity and refined in his speech. Who did not look at him in a proprietary way or as though they were entitled to his obedience or subservience. It was refreshing. 

It was also a sight for sore eyes. Long defined muscles, healthy toned skin, quiet strength, the kind that came from actual movement and agility instead of bodybuilding and vanity. Tony figured it had to do with being a wolf. He would certainly move more than those lazy, ego-inflated As. 

And of course no one could blame him for not wearing layers while inside his den. Modesty was a human construct, after all.

One that made talking to people… less distracting. 

Tony kept catching himself  _ looking, _ his gaze sliding down Loki’s form, admiring, then snapping back up. 

He didn’t have much in terms of frame of reference, but he could tell when he was in front of a fine specimen and he was curious. There was nothing to be ashamed of in just looking after all, especially if  _ everything _ was on display...and the man was  _ hung. _

Anyway, he had reason to look. It wasn’t everyday that a wolf turned into a man just before his eyes. That would be his excuse should anyone ask. And considering the smirk on Loki’s lips, Tony had definitely been caught looking.

On the other hand, he didn’t think anything could actually deceive Loki. He had that glint in his eyes, the same that the wolf had when Obie tried his trick. It was almost as intimidating as the size of his dick. Tony was used to being able to wiggle out of most punishments by batting his lashes and appearing the poor clueless O—Emma had taught him that technique, and he’d perfected it in the years since she’d left. It hadn’t stopped him from having a  _ reputation _ as a “problem omega”, but it had helped some. He suspected that this kind of tactic wouldn’t work here. 

He decided to act like nothing in particular happened,  _ and indeed nothing did _ , and try to go back to their conversation. 

Their  _ normal  _ conversation _. _ One that could just as well happen between two people of the same designation. 

But Tony wouldn’t be fooled.

He might like  _ looking _ , but that didn't mean he wanted to be touched, and he was tired of being considered as a piece of meat. Strange that it took being treated with respect by an animal to make him realize how poorly humans had behaved toward him, how ill at ease he’d been before, always on edge and suspicious…

He couldn’t seem to banish the flash of fear. It had come rushing when he’d realized he was now alone with an alpha, with no way out and no one coming to help him. An alpha that officially  _ owned him. _

He remembered what happened when someone refused, resisted an alpha’s amorous advances. He’d seen it, the darkening, reddening eyes, the bestial rage, the mindless violence…

Tony gulped and forced a smile. He might have had practice rebuffing pushy knotheads before, but he was acutely aware that he lived in this alpha’s territory. There was no escaping, no running off, no getting close to another group of people and making the guy back off with rules of propriety. 

But he could still talk. 

It might just be enough to stall for time and use the other’s lie. He wanted them to get to know each other? Tony would make him talk until he dropped asleep or got bored and went looking for more interesting things than the mouthy brat with the thousands questions. Maybe he would be one of those who liked talking about themselves so much that they ended up monologuing for hours, forgetting about anything beyond their own egos. 

Though Loki seemed sharper and smarter than those people, it didn't necessarily mean that he would be different in that regard. With some luck, he could get the upper hand and steer the conversation where he needed. 

And he needed it to be away from anything even remotely suggestive. 

He knew how to do that. How many nights had he spent practicing with Emma, having fake conversation, then analyzing them and strategizing words and topics and flows, practicing diction and tempo, how to ensnare with a look, to hook them until they hung unto their every word...

Loki was still staring, wolf eyes narrow and piercing. Tony faltered for but a moment, before noticing that the glare wasn’t cowing or angry, merely inquisitive.

The sickly cloying smell of melancholy with sharp tangs of sour fear reached his nose and Tony cringed. Yet another way his body betrayed him. He rarely noticed his own smell but it never failed to broadcast his emotional turmoil anyway. 

He’d been smelling content and safe since he’d entered the wolf’s den. How ironic that he’d felt safer there than in his own home, where the whole mansion  _ stunk _ of his distress, so much that it’d seeped into the walls and more outbursts were masked by the existing smell. Most alphas didn’t care, barely even paid attention, so Tony had done the same. 

It figured that the one that was also a wolf would pay more attention to smell. 

Time for a diversion. 

The awkward silence had stretched between them for long enough, and the longer it lasted, the more Tony feared the way it would break, the advantage it would bring the one who would seize control. 

_ “A conversation is like a dance,” Emma had said as Tony stumbled out of a twirl. “The one who takes the lead will be able to decide the trajectory, will set the pace and dictate the experience of the one to follow.”  _

_ He’d looked up at her, poised and regal as she stood in the middle of the empty dining hall, the tables and desks pushed to the sides and mops and buckets in the corner… And she smiled at him, mischievous and kind even as he struggled with his uncoordinated limbs. “Now tell me, which one would you prefer to be?” _

_ Nothing could take from her that strength of character. Nothing could contest her power, over herself, over the people around her. Even detroned, she remained a queen. He’d promised himself that one day, when he was grown, he would have the same bearing, the same charisma. He promised himself he would learn everything she had to offer him.  _

_ He would make her proud—as she was the only one to show herself willing to be.  _

_ He took the lead. _

“So, what does a God of the Forest  _ do _ ?”

Tony had a routine for these kinds of “getting to know you” conversations. Not quite a choreography, nor really a list of things to remember, but somewhere between the two. 

Making the other feel important was one, appearing interested was another. Letting them talk about themselves. Most people loved that and alphas were particularly prone to having inflated egos and a bloated sense of self importance. They rarely actually  _ cared  _ about their audience, and the idea that the person they were talking to could be bored out of their skulls never seemed to occur to them. And while it could be irritating sometimes, it was also a very useful way to ingratiate oneself in their favor. 

Not to say that it also gave a great deal of insight on the kind of person they were. An alpha preening and basking in their self importance would put forward the things that they considered most important. Was it money? Their status? Their material possessions? Their famous acquaintances? 

The alpha—Loki was waxing poetics on the balance of the universe, the place of the Forest in the world, the way it regulated the climate, the various ecosystems and their interconnectedness. 

Tony let him talk. It was interesting, certainly, but he was too keyed up to truly appreciate the cleverness and the sparkling new knowledge offered so easily. The voice was deep, velvety and comfortable as it washed over him. 

It was wrong, everything was wrong. The alpha wasn’t reacting right, he wasn’t talking about the right things in the right ways, he was too careful, too  _ polite _ . 

It put Tony on edge. 

As Tony listened distractedly to Loki’s admittedly elegant words, he figured that his alpha was of the rare sort that actually cared about the impact of their actions and genuinely tried to better the world around him. It was only half surprising, and it seemed to confirm his previous observations. 

However he knew better than to put any weight on a hypothesis without an actual proof. He couldn’t just trust gut feelings and whimsical wishes, it was his  _ life  _ on the line. He’d seen what happened to Os who trusted the wrong As, and Emma was far from the only one. Except that she was pretty enough, canny enough, and from a prestigious enough family that she managed to avoid the worst of the backlash and still succeeded in getting herself a stable, comfortable situation. Most didn’t. 

But if Loki cared… what did that mean for him? 

Then again, he cared about his position. That didn’t necessarily mean that he would care for any potential packmates… or mates. 

Howard didn’t—hadn’t—after all, even though he was  _ most altruistic  _ in his work. He might even actually care about the “people”, nameless throngs of soldiers going to war while bearing his name, a brand upon their armor, their weapons, their vehicles. Those soldiers were  _ his _ in a way Tony never was. Too much of a disappointment. Couldn’t bear the blight of an O in the Stark line. 

And if even his own sire hadn’t been able to care about him, how could any other alpha? 

Tony trailed his eyes over the well defined chest, surprisingly hairless for a man who spent a good deal of his life moonlighting as a wolf. His gaze wandered back to his face, cunning eyes knowingly boring into his own. Tony straightened, alarmed. 

The first rule of conversation, the most important one,  _ never let your mark believe that you’re not paying attention and don’t care about what they’re saying.  _

_ “Unless you want them to be mortally offended, of course. It puts a blow to their pride, you see, and we both know how sensitive knothead’s prides are.”  _

The memory of that afternoon spent laughing and joking about alpha oversensitivity and easily injured pride, and easily injured  _ dicks _ , brought a small smile to his face, and cleared his mind enough to stop panicking. It was done, the silence had been ringing around them for a fair few seconds before Tony even noticed it, and there was no denying his behavior. He just hadn’t paid attention to the man who held his life in his hand. 

No big deal. He’d done it before. Deliberately. 

Granted, Loki hadn’t done anything to deserve such rudeness, but he was Tony Stark, problem omega extraordinaire. He would own up to his own actions and their consequences. 

If anything, it would tell him what he was in for. 

It was best to know these things in order to know how much the rules could be bent and how much he would have to hide and tiptoe. 

Tony tilted his chin up, that insolent angle that used to make his father see red, with the small brazen smirk that had brought more than one alpha to violence. 

It wasn’t that he had wanted to be deliberately provocative, truly. But the waiting was driving  _ him  _ crazy. Perhaps literally, if one considered his current course of action. 

He kept waiting for the other shoe to drop, for the moment when the alpha stopped  _ playing nice  _ and showed his true colors, and it was nerve-wracking. 

So he’d apparently decided to shake that bloody shoe loose. 

It wasn’t necessarily a good idea. It wasn’t even something he’d done  _ deliberately. _ But now that it was done, now that he was staring the alpha down, provocative in a way that almost begged for some kind of retaliation, he couldn’t help the strange kind of relief that blended with anxiety and fear in a nauseating combination. 

_ Something _ had to happen now, he couldn’t let such disrespect stand. It was unheard of. Tony didn’t know what, not yet, he had no clue what the other would consider appropriate punishment, but he  _ had to know. _

_ “A scientist cannot plan anything unless he has all the parameters. Should one of them be unknown, there must be enough experiments to define the breadth of their movement and the way their actions will impact the original undertaking.” _

Tony let the familiar rote soothe his mind as he blindly tightened his cuffs one notch. His breath evened out, deepening. He felt his shoulders relax as his defiant pose lost some of its unnatural rigidity. He settled back into it, wriggling until he found himself comfortable and sent a devious look in his wolf’s way. 

He had turned provocation into an art form, twisting rut-brains into knots, and the pun was very much intended. He enjoyed it, the power it gave him over them, some small vindictive part of him wanting to bring them as low as they’d brought him, to be the one to hold the leash for one. 

But he needed to remember that he couldn’t hide behind the wardens’ backs anymore, and being a tease could be more trouble than it was worth at this time. 

The thought was enough to send a shiver down his spine and he hunched his shoulders, averting his gaze from the alpha’s intrigued stare.

Emma hadn’t been afraid to use sex as a tool to get what she wanted, and while it was quite efficient with those rodbrains, Tony didn’t have the same… outlook. For one he’d had it beaten into his brain that his virginity was a currency that he had best not lose, for another… he had fanciful dreams that he’d actually share his body with someone he could care about and who would care about him. That he would actually be intimate with someone instead of just being rutted into. 

He knew better than to cling to such preposterous hopes, and he would never actually admit to having bought into the “True Love” propaganda, but… that didn’t mean he just wanted to lay back and spread his legs for the first alpha that came by. 

He had too much pride for that anyway, and  _ that  _ was something they’d never managed to smother. 

No matter how many times they dunked his head in that blasted barrel. No matter if his hands trembled at the mere thought. 

Tony exhaled shakily, fingers innocuous resting on the cuffs clasp as he steeled his spine. He was no wimpy-O, cowering before ghosts of things that happened years ago. His chin flicked back up, just an inch, enough to appear sassy but not enough for it to be perceived as a challenge to their authority. 

He’d perfected this look years ago. A way to express boldness without ending up black and blue or choking on stale water. 

Most of the time. 

Though it was perhaps too late to play coy and pretend that he hadn’t just walked all over the bounds of propriety and acted in a way that would have any alpha he knew striking him down, or using some other barbaric manner of expressing their displeasure at his rudeness. 

Any alpha… but not Loki apparently. 

Tony stared, calculations forgotten for the moment as he took in the sight of his wolf-man still sprawled before him, relaxed and unworried, and for all intents and purposes appearing… not upset. 

Nothing like he was expecting. 

Where was the flush of rage, the reddening eyes, the bulging veins, the snarl? There was not even a lowering of the brows, or a darkening of the expression. If anything, he looked  _ amused. _

Tony shivered. 

Uncertainty was not something he was comfortable with. Not understanding someone’s reactions or motivations was  _ not  _ conducive to his continued health, and at the moment, he couldn’t make anything out of Loki’s countenance. 

It just didn’t make sense, didn’t fit with anything that he knew, any patterns that he’d observed. He had no plans against that, no contingencies, no foil. 

By refusing to rise to the challenge and take the brute’s route, he’d effectively cut off any control Tony had over the situation. 

He averted his eyes again, feeling strangely like a child being reprimanded for acting like a brat. His next exhale was shaky, and he clenched his fists to stop his trembling fingers. He was so messed up. Freaking out because he  _ wasn’t _ being beaten was a new low. He hated it. 

His hands shook on his thighs as he battled between humiliation and terror, his brashness dwindling until it became no more than a token bluff, due more to his unwillingness to back down than any real rebelliousness. 

He was frozen. He didn’t dare look away, or move, or  _ breathe _ . 

_ “Breathe Tony. You can’t think clearly when you’re not breathing. Come on, I know you’re scared. You’ve been conditioned to associate some stimuli to pain and other terrifying things. It’s not your fault but it makes you act like a desperate rabbit caught in a wolf trap.”  _

_ Delicate fingertips had caressed his cheeks, titling his head up. The golden eyes had borne into his own. The color, so distinctive to their shared condition, always seemed so much wilder on her perfect face, as though she was an untamable spirit trapped into the porcelain shell of a doll.  _

_ Tony had seen it, though, had been the only one to pay enough attention to notice the barely hidden fierceness, and only he had spoken with it.  _

_ She’d smiled, a tender thing that was kept for his eyes only, pure crystalline emotion that would make angels weep and brought warmth to Tony’s wounded heart.  _

_ “Listen to me, my cub. You are not actually powerless. You can take control over yourself and clear your mind. Breathe and use your big brain to find a way out. Now.” _

_ And he had _ . 

Tony gasped in a breath, trying for inconspicuous and yet almost flinching at how loud it felt. He fingered the clasp on his cuffs, then the comforting texture of soft fur and supple leather, the ridges of the intricate designs toiled and carved into it, the small metal ornaments that echoed the heavy brass buckle. 

His ribcage still moved shakily on his exhale, but this blind exploration reminded him of how easy it was to silently adjust those cuffs, to give himself the necessary emotional support or to give himself some freedom. 

He reminded himself of what a gift it was, independence, safety… respect. 

No alpha would have ever offered such a thing where he came from. Emma used to say it was because they were too scared of the power they would wield if they weren’t crushed under their boots. Tony though… he thought it was just  _ another  _ type of indoctrination. Just because alphas were at the top of the food chain didn't mean that they were immune to the type of manipulation that forged habits and behaviors and beliefs. 

The alpha had straightened, a furrow appearing between his brows. He was still watching him, carefully, piercingly, but Tony could not find any anger on his face. Only the stillness of a predator and permeating confusion. Maybe something like wariness or concern, though he was hesitant to put much stock in his current ability to interpret the alpha’s expression. 

His hands were still faintly trembling upon his thighs, fine tremors coursing up his spine as his lungs worked overtime to make him recover from the burning feeling of asphyxia. Perhaps his…  _ episode _ had been too obvious. 

Sometimes his absences could be simply overlooked. Tony would smile, abashed, coy, and murmur that he was daydreaming. Alphas were easily convinced of omegan stupidity. After all, such harmless tittering airheads couldn’t possibly have enough wits for underhanded insults. Or lies. Or manipulations of any sorts. 

Sometimes Tony could appreciate being underestimated. 

He loathed it of course. He dreamed of being regarded at his own measure, respected and recognized for his achievements, but now that there finally was an alpha who looked at him as a person and not a feebleminded ornament, he could feel the layers of protection stripped from him and… 

His insides felt cold, his eyes frozen on the too clever, too  _ perceptive _ gaze of the wolf. He should have known to be careful about what he’d wished for, but now that there was someone  _ finally  _ looking at him and not the pretty picture he’d crafted, or the despicable one they expected, someone who wasn’t  _ safe,  _ wasn’t  _ Emma _ , and he  _ didn’t know what to do. _

Nothing he did got the expected response, nothing the alpha did made  _ sense _ , and Tony could feel the situation spinning more and more out of control. 

He hated feeling out of control. 

His throat felt tight. 

The alpha was still there, still calm and not angry, not offended and not dismissive. He was still staring at him, intrigued, as though Tony himself was a complex puzzle, a conundrum, a riddle that he needed to solve. 

Tony wanted to get  _ away  _ from his too keen eyes, from the gaze that was bypassing all his masks and taking him apart. 

He’d stopped breathing again. He felt unbalanced, as though he was just a step behind and couldn’t find his mark in the rhythm playing. 

He was being strung along, dancing to a tune he couldn’t recognize and every move he made was a  _ misstep… _

Tony forced himself to breathe again. He clenched his hands around his cuffed wrists, desperately clinging onto his sanity, trying to keep himself from slipping further and further into panic. 

Losing control had never ended well for him. 

Growling and charging head first at the wardens, throwing ineffective fists around and barely even hitting anything even as his wild swings pulled at his shoulders, he’d been entirely pathetic at that time. Screaming and raging at the laughing knotheads who would never listen to an omega speaking with poise, let alone a hysterical one. Raging helplessly as they cooed patronizingly. “Kitten has claws!” 

“Whoo, that little guy thinks himself a wild one. Don’t you know what we do to rabid animals, pussycat?”

“Perhaps we’ll give the kitty a bath. Do you like water kitty cat? We’ll cool off your rage, squirter, don’t you worry.” 

He’d never felt so insignificant and powerless as when they were dunking him in that stale water, heedless of his protests and struggles, manhandling him as though nothing he did or could do would have any effect. 

Emma had patched him back together holding him as he heaved and coughed out the water in his lungs. 

He was ashamed. Ashamed of how easily they’d bested him, of how useless his efforts had been, ashamed of how he’d proved once again his incompetence and uselessness. 

He’d been young, then, and with the insight of age and experience he could tell that, even had he been an alpha, it would have been impossible for a child like him to overcome five grown boys. 

But his pride was easily wounded at the time, as quickly as his temper roused. It was also the first time he’d seen that barrel, and even though it wouldn’t be the last, it was one of the most scarring things he’d been through. 

“They’re wrong, you know? You’re not cat, or any kind of house pet.” She’d pushed the wet locks of hair away from his face, peering into his golden eyes with a mischievous smile. 

“You’re a cub. A small creature of infinite potential, as wild and untamed as a firestorm, but far too small to be defined yet, to be set on a peculiar path. But no matter what you will become, I can see greatness in your words and fierceness in your eyes. And I, for one, would be honored to find out what manner of man you will grow into.”

Those were the first words Emma had spoken to him, and they had also been the first genuinely empowering acknowledgment offered to him. Freely, with no expectations or ulterior motives, she’d given him the means to patch his broken sense of self-worth and find his dignity anew. 

He clung to those words even then, held that thought preciously each time she’d called him  _ her cub.  _

And yet, he now found himself thrown back to that moment when he was the helpless kit held by his scruff and ineffectively looking for his footing and swinging tiny fists around as his tormentors laughed. He caught himself cowering in fright, eyes zeroing on the alpha’s idle hands, half expecting blows. 

It was entirely irrational. The alpha was calm, clever,  _ respectful. _ He was nothing like those knots. Tony wasn’t being manhandled, beaten or insulted. There was  _ nothing at all  _ that was similar to that event, and yet. 

And yet he felt entirely powerless and at an alpha’s mercy. And he’d yet to find an A who actually possessed any. 

“What are you so scared of?” 

The alpha’s voice was jarring, breaking through the toxic thoughts that had poisoned his mind in the silence. He’d let his imagination run wild again. Stillness often brought his mind to dark places, and it was so easy to expect the worst. There was plenty of past experiences to feed upon. 

Tony blinked back his surprise, recoiling when he saw how much closer the alpha had come. The heady, soothing smell sent a shiver coursing down his spine, a primal sort of arousal that he was definitely  _ not  _ familiar with. 

“You smell terrified.”

The words took him by surprise. He’d never expected anyone to address the issue point blank. Or even to care enough to raise the issue, let enough in such a gentle way. 

It felt like a trap. 

What was he supposed to answer to that? Should he lie? Would he be punished for lying? 

He certainly couldn’t tell the man that his alphaness was terrifying, and his niceness was alarmingly incomprehensible. Perhaps, the only solution was a clever evasion, a clever side-step that would work to change the subject? 

But Tony still felt frozen, called out in a way he never truly was. He felt  _ seen,  _ more naked than he’d ever been, regardless of which of them both was wearing clothing. 

His throat felt dry, and he’d never been more aware of the sickening smell of distress clinging to him. He wiped his sweaty palms to his leggings, frantically looking for something to say, a way to find his footing once more. A way to take control of the situation once more, to simply stop feeling as though the entire conversation was a slippery slope he was careening through without any safety line. 

Loki quirked his lip in a self-deprecating smirk. 

“To think, I’d been so worried about you being scared of the wolf, I didn’t think of you fearing the man.” 

Tony blinked, jarred. 

What was the wolfman looking for, with this line of inquiry? Was this a hidden reprimand? Or instead, as it seemed to be, a self-recrimination? 

What did the man care of Tony’s comfort? Was this yet another pretense? Was it a way to satisfy his own conscience? 

Or was it actually genuine? 

Tony never had any way to know. But the price of trust was always much too high for his kind. 

There was no one to comfort him should he fall, no one to patch his wounds. There were stones thrown, laughter and spitting. 

Tony could still remember Emma’s words, jaded and mournful, the strength of a queen in her bearing while she played servant to pay the Academy back for the mating contract she’d lost them. For “love”. “Love, don’t go looking for love, Tony. It’s a trap, a mean trick they’ll use to get close to you, use you, and throw you away. Don’t throw your life away just because someone made a pretense at kindness long enough to get you in bed. Don’t be like me.” 

He could still feel his father’s hand clawing at his shoulder as he forced him to witness her “disgrace”, as a warning for what would happen if he dared to befoul the Stark name that way. An angry whisper that rang like a death toll to his child’s mind as he saw the beautiful lady being humiliated, called names, spat on by the alpha prick laughing meanly at her crumpled form, boasting on how he’d taken her maidenhead and no one would want her anymore. 

Even then, he couldn’t help thinking that she was more pure than anyone else standing there in the rain, even with her hair matted with mud and her face reddened by tears.

Later, when it was safe, he’d gotten close to her, the fallen angel, the disgraced daughter, the ice queen—names that weren’t half as foul as those usually whispered after her passage, but he didn’t like to think of that— before she wrangled a new contract for herself, with a rich,  _ old _ man. He hadn’t understood of course, why would she go for a decrepit lecherous  _ relic _ , but she had a canny glint in her eye and a cold twist to her lips when she answered.  _ “We omegas, we do what we have to in order to survive. And I intend to do better than just survive, I intend to thrive. This, darling, this isn’t about love, this is a business transaction. It’s safety, it’s a future. You need to think about what you want and how to get it if you ever want to get away from the shackles of our condition.” _

Tony understood. He’d taken her words to heart, as the concerned advice of a friend, one who was more wounded by their experience and didn’t want the same thing to happen to the one person who had done their best to be a solace for them. The one who called them a friend. 

He was an idealist, a romantic. A naive fool, she would say, but it didn’t matter, he’d heard and heeded her warnings many times, and it had saved his hide more than once. Funny how people’s true faces appeared once they faced rejection. 

But this was no longer the same situation. 

He was at the alpha’s mercy, he’d been  _ sold _ to him. There would be no one coming to find him, there would be no one checking him for  _ purity,  _ because for all intents and purposes, it already belonged to that wolfman. 

And yes, Tony had very much preferred the wolf. The wolf had made him feel safe, cherished, a true companion he could rely upon. 

But how could he ever say such a thing to the Alpha’s face? 

His silence must have been answer enough, or perhaps the frozen expression upon his face, his every mask crumbling before Loki’s nonsensical reactions, before his cruel patience and impossible kindness. 

A sad smile painted the alpha’s lips, his eyes infinitely soft and ageless. Tony could feel his hackles rise already. 

“How you must have been hurt. Do you distrust all alphas so much?”

_ Yes. _ The answer was there, on the tip of Tony’s tongue, belligerent and biting. He didn’t want this expression on the other’s face anymore, didn’t want this ‘kindness’ directed at him. 

It was too close to pity, and he was not someone to be pitied. He was a cub, a wild thing, a creature powerful enough to make every alpha at the academy dance to his tune at least as much as had been possible, and he’d  _ survived.  _

He wouldn’t let it be cheapened by such a  _ trite _ thing as  _ pity.  _

Something else came out instead. 

“Not unless they are expecting something from me.”

His chin jutted out, more challenging than antagonistic. He wanted to know if the other would be honest enough to admit to it, if he would finally speak plainly, and put him out of his misery. The wait was unbearable. 

This pretence of kindness was destroying him. 

But the alpha only frowned, not in anger but in confusion, his head tilted slightly to the side in a manner charmingly reminiscent of his wolf’s puzzlement. Sharp eyes roamed Tony’s face, his body. The gaze felt like an assessment, analyzing not leering. 

Tony didn’t know what to think of it. Disconcerted once more by the lack of any reasonable, any  _ normal _ reaction. Thrown off-balance by the non-confrontational behavior of the alpha, his calm, his  _ poise.  _

_ Tony _ was usually the one with poise. 

Slowly, something like suspicion dawned onto the other’s expression, something cold and hard. 

This was it, Tony knew. The end of the ‘nice guy’ act. The end of the uncertainty. 

He would finally see Loki’s true colors. 

“You know. I’m not going to rape you.”

Tony flinched, recoiling at the crudeness, at the bluntly spoken word. 

‘Rape’ was a word only Emma had ever used and explained properly. There had been some rally of people getting up in arms about treatment of omegas, and as such some of their classes had turned into some sort of brainwashing that was supposed to forestall any of their movement. After all, one couldn’t liberate a people who did not wish for freedom, who did not even know what freedom was. 

Emma had been there for him then, her eyes incredibly sad when he’d asked her about it. About what rape was, and if it was what had happened with her since it was sex with someone not her mate. 

She’d set him right of course. Told him he should have known better than to believe the old biddies’ tales, and not to take untrustworthy people’s words at face value. 

“It doesn’t matter if someone is your mate or not. Rape isn’t about that at all. It’s about if you want something or not. And if you’re allowed to  _ not _ want it.” 

Tony hadn’t quite understood it at the time. He’d been pretty young, though he had been quite reassured to hear that Emma had never had to suffer through that. 

Though he could never truly afford to be quite so naive. 

He’d known quite well what she meant by having the right and ability to say no. It was something that had been quite literally beaten into his head. It was a constant thing, a pressure to be pleasant, to smile, to be welcoming. 

He’d learned to play the game, to walk the fine line between acceptable and not, between what would earn him a trip in the bucket or simply some gritted teeth and a harsh word. What would instead send a condescending look his way, what it would take to be simply dismissed with no further consequences. 

Tony had no care to  _ please _ anyone. He had no wish to be  _ prized,  _ or even appreciated by old knotheads. 

He knew why Emma had played the game, of course, he’d understood her reasoning. 

Just as much as she’d respected his choices, although her eyes only showed sorrow. 

But she’d never stopped him. She’d shown pride at his fine skill at maintaining his position, at walking this very fine line, though in the end it had been useless. 

But then, he hadn’t really had any other way out before that. Half baked plots to pass off as a beta, maybe. Or some long travel for some promised land where things would have been different. 

A drop of arsenic in Ty’s champagne glass before their wedding night. 

He wasn’t picky. 

The question of whether those foolish ideas could ever be viable in the long term was too ridiculous to ever consider. In fact, he could not even call those schemes. They were closer to daydreams, ridiculous fantasies that didn’t even seem likely enough to be called simply ‘disorganized.’ In fact they seemed about as realistic as the thought of Howard ever seeing any manner of worth in his son. 

He’d never factored in the Forest God in those ploys. Somehow it seemed to be even more ludicrous to ever think he’d cross such a being’s path. 

Perhaps he should have done as Emma had, weaving plots and seduction in order to master his own fate, choose his own poison. But he’d been arrogant, and disgusted by the mere thought. 

When the name Stone and ‘betrothal arrangement’ had been spoken in the same sentence, it had felt like his doom. He’d panicked. 

He’d always been someone to act on impulse. 

And it had sent him in that strange man’s claws. 

Looking back on the naked wolfman staring steadily at him and claiming that he would not ‘rape’ him? 

Tony didn’t know what to believe. 

“Are you saying that because you actually  _ ‘own’ me? _ Because there’s ‘no such thing as rape between mates?”

He was unlikely to get anything good from such a confrontational way of speaking, but he’d heard the rote enough by now to be sickened by the mere thought of it. What else could he do but curse when confronted with such careless words? What else could he say when faced with an alpha who seemed so very self assured, so very  _ strange? _

Tony had learned from a young age to expect the worst. It had saved his life and kept him from a lot of pain more than once. 

To have someone speak so lightly of rape as though it had not been something he’d been fearing, quietly, secretly, ever since he’d understood the concept? To proclaim so carelessly that it wouldn’t happen even though he’d grown to expect it as an eventual inevitability, that he’d grown to dread and fear and rage and quieten when he’d learned that such a knothead as  _ Stone _ would have a free pass to do whatever he wished to his body? 

Tony wanted to claw out his eyes. 

_ ‘Breathe, Tony,’  _ Emma’s voice called from the depths of his memory. ‘ _ You know how useless rage turns you _ .’ 

And indeed he knew. He remembered the water. He remembered the fear and the helplessness. 

He would not let himself lose control like that, not when so many things were already going out of hand and he had no way to know what manner of reaction his action would incur. 

He breathed in, stared Loki down. 

The man looked surprised, then angry. Then that preternatural calm came over his fine face once more. 

“I do not believe either such thing. However, I doubt you will simply take my word for it.”

His voice was calm, just as steady as it had been all throughout their conversation. Tony shivered once more at how unpenetrable that façade was, how utterly impossible it was to get a read on that man. 

Loki was too blunt, too observant, too  _ calm.  _ And his words always struck true, crippling in the manner they had to simply pull out Tony’s deepest insecurities to the surface. He read the young omega too well. 

Tony trembled, shaken, enraged, terrified. He didn’t know what to do anymore, he couldn’t take this nerve-wracking dinner for a single second more. 

He couldn’t think clearly, couldn’t evaluate, couldn’t weigh any options because he had  _ no options,  _ no outside recourse, no rules behind which to hide, no rumor to spread in order to instigate a distraction. 

He was shaking apart. 

That alpha would be the death of him. 

As though in answer to that thought, the alpha tilted his head to the side, eyes soft and sad. He’d never reminded him more of his wolf than then, of those liquid green eyes eyeing his wounds as though they were the most heartbreaking things in this world. 

Perhaps this was the same. Perhaps Loki was viewing for the first time the wounds on his soul, in his heart. 

It was the memory of the wolf’s soft snout on his injured skin, it’s carefulness and respect that didn’t make Tony bristle even more at the tenderness. It had not felt pitying in the wolf’s demeanor, and at this time, the man seemed so much like that wounded puppy, unable to understand human cruelty and heartbroken at the betrayal of those expectations. 

“You must have been…” 

Loki’s words stopped, as though inadequate to convey properly his intent, his feelings. 

Tony smiled wryly. The wolf always seemed so very shrewd, so  _ canny _ when interacting with people, his sharp eyes when eyeing Obadiah, his unimpressed look whenever Tony had tried to argue the relative safety of a foolhardy exploration. 

It had reminded him of Emma. 

But Emma had never been surprised by the cruelty he’d suffered, never felt betrayed. She’d previously experienced every single one of his pains. She’d never liked them, she’d grieved, and raged and plotted and bestowed her own kind of quiet and ruthless revenge, but never had she felt blindsided by his anguish. 

Loki, hadn’t. 

Where had he come from that the ways of humans seemed so alien to him, that the treatment of omegas appeared to be a surprise? That he’d not come to expect the pungent scent of omegans fear and distress when left alone with one? 

Then again, he was a wolf. Perhaps it wasn’t quite so unexpected. 

He didn’t think the wildlife was quite so harsh against its own members, especially not against those bearing the cubs. 

They would never have survived otherwise. 

Sometimes, Tony had wondered if it would have been better, to live entirely separate from society and its comforts, away from knotheads and threats and ridiculous social rules that made it possible for inbred morons to keep their hold over people like Emma and him. 

They were too clever to bow to those idiots. They were too strong, too beautiful, too willful to ever be under anyone’s boot. 

If their society had any sense at all, they would have been the ones ruling, they would have been standing above them all. 

But they had been born in the wrong place for that, the wrong gender. They had been subjugated, humiliated, pushed down and belittled time after time. 

They had been a threat, to old men’s power, to their precious and fragile ego, their pearl-clutching need for supremacy. 

Tony hated them. Sometimes, he wanted to burn them all down, he wanted revenge,  _ fairness.  _

He needed  _ justice,  _ but he could not believe in it anymore, could not believe in the justice of alphas that would sentence omegas to the brothels because they had been raped, could not believe in a justice that considered him a piece of property to barter. He could not believe in  _ anything _ that came from these people. 

Once he had dreamed of justice, the kind that one took in their own hands and waged against their enemies, as one would a war. 

Emma had taken his white-knuckled fists and looked at him sadly. They felt such kinship in that moment, such understanding. 

The need for fairness was something inborn in every human, in every mammal. Even  _ dogs _ felt it. 

And they lived in a world that was fundamentally  _ unfair. _

It had burned in his bones like a forest fire, all consuming rage that made him want to destroy everything until nothing was left, not even himself. 

And then he’d deflated, helplessness and despair taking the place of rage, because even if he’d wanted to, what could he possibly have done? 

No matter how much he’d wanted to, how much he’d raged and cried and screamed at the heavens, he was but a single, isolated O. 

There was no way to rally his fellows to his cause, there wasn’t even any cause to rally them  _ to. _ They were brainwashed, trained to spew vitriol at any of them that stepped out of the very small box of acceptable behaviors, relishing in throwing stones and spit in the path of victims, praised when they behaved in a manner that broke all possibility of solidarity between members of their genders. They received boons when snitching, they were punished twice as harshly for stepping in and helping each other, or keeping each other’s secrets. The wardens presented themselves as friends and confidants to the unwary and broke apart any kind of trust that could be created before it even started to bloom. 

Omegas were given a reputation of untrustworthy gossips, the dorms a viper pit of viciousness where every one of them was trying to obtain the favor of the director, hoping to reach a higher status, to gain favours and comforts above that of common Os. 

It was clever, Tony knew. It was manipulative and vicious and it created ruthless greedy suspicious people who wouldn’t trust each other even if their lives depended on it. And indeed they would throw the others under the Wardens scrutiny if it would earn them even the smallest bit of favor. They would send each other to fates worse than death for no more than a single biscuit, or maybe a pillow. 

What then could one do with such a spineless bunch of brainless mercenary beings? 

Tony hated them all, and pitied them at the same time. He’d felt the temptation to do the same of course, when he’d still been young and terrified. He’d wanted…  _ something else.  _ But he’d found Emma instead, and her proud smiles were worth so much more than anything anyone could possibly offer him. The idea of betraying her trust, of becoming such a greedy empty  _ groveler,  _ of losing her mischievous eyes and tender touches just for the sake of a couple more bread chunks? It made him sick to his stomach. 

Sometimes he had feared it, terrified of inadvertently betraying her trust. Of  _ slipping up, _ letting his attention loosen and let himself be followed. Of coming back one day to see Emma suffering punishment for their friendship, of her looking back at him with betrayed,  _ disappointed _ golden eyes. 

He had learned very fast to never make mistakes, to be easily forgotten just to make sure that such a thing never happened. And yet that fear had remained, twisting his guts in the nights, chilling his blood and tightening his throat. A stray word could so easily raise the wrong kind of attention, and there were so many occasions to slip up. So many ways one could raise enough ire from one of his fellows, enough  _ envy,  _ enough for them to decide to  _ look. _

No, Tony had long abandoned any aspiration of spearheading a revolution, had even given up on protecting anyone but himself and Emma. After all, why would he care for people who would sooner spit on him than help him up when he fell? 

He was selfish, self-serving. But then, was there a place for anything else in their world? 

Still, Emma had patted his head while looking at him with grieved and tender eyes, shaking her head and whispering about his too soft heart. 

She was right, of course. He was not about to step on anyone in order to get to his goals. Or at least, not people who had not previously wronged him. 

So Tony had perfected the art of invisibility, of being irritating but not  _ too much,  _ of being quiet but not enough to be desirable, subdued but not a pushover, insolent but not enough to be scorned. 

It was a tightrope, played to slip below Wardens and knotheads’ consideration, and mostly, mainly, beneath the other omega’s notice. 

But Loki  _ had  _ noticed. His predatory eyes too sharp, his cunning smirk, the way he kept tracking his movements, the way he watched him silently. 

The wolf would not let him fall back into invisibility. He would not let him fade into the background, hiding himself behind the layers of other people’s expectations. He would not… 

Tony shook his head. He’d known since the start that his wolf wasn’t one easily fooled, he’d figured out early on that the alpha was an observant one. To have Loki actually  _ look at him _ and  _ see,  _ well, it was only to be expected, after all. 

He would need to learn to live with it. 

Emma had seen him too. 

But he’d trusted Emma. And though he’d trusted the wolf, how could he possibly trust an alpha? 

Loki’s lips twisted bitterly, his smile a tad sad but not in an accusatory way. 

Tony waited, eyes wide. His own painful smirk had fallen a while ago, in the silence stretching between them. 

He’d forgotten to breathe again but he didn’t dare gasp out a breath now, let it echo in the silence between them, too loud for either of them to pretend not to notice it. 

His eyes were trained fixedly on Loki’s, wide gold staring deep into narrow green, waiting for the axe to fall. 

The alpha averted his eyes first, frustration crossing his face as he shook his head. 

“I am going to retire. Do as you wish. I know you do not trust me, and I am sure that you have your reasons. I shall not impose my presence upon you more than necessary. This is your home too, and you should be able to feel safe.” 

Just like that? 

_ Safe? Tony’s home? _

And with that he rose fluidly, face twisting when Tony recoiled at the move, and turned his back, walking out of the room. 

Tony gasped, heaving as he tried to catch his breath, too shocked and high on adrenaline to appreciate the sight of the bare ass walking gracefully away from him. 

He knew Loki could hear him, and some part of him was even aware that his too obvious show of fear was hurting someone he might actually be able to call his benefactor, but he couldn’t care at the moment. He was trembling all over, his tension releasing abruptly and leaving him empty, frail and rattled. 

Slowly he raised shaking hands, hiding his face behind them and covering eyes he couldn’t bring himself to close. 

What was  _ wrong _ with him?

Replaying for himself the previous conversation, the way he’d acted, so rude and dismissive and insolent against someone who’d gone out of his way to appear unthreatening and welcoming, he couldn’t help but wonder  _ what he’d been thinking.  _

How long would Loki’s goodwill last against Tony’s insolence? Against his blatant hostilility? 

How much would the resulting punishment be due to the alpha showing his “true colors” and how much would it be his own poisoned expectations having created the outcome? 

He knew how easy it was to conform to another’s perception of oneself; how with enough repetition, enough suspicion of misdeeds, one started to resent their own honesty and start behaving as the thief they were accusing him of being. 

How easy it had been to start filching the food, how good it had felt to finally become that thief, how vindictive and spiteful but then how aggrieved. 

Because as much as it had felt good to make them pay for the unfair judgements, for the nasty assumptions he’d had to shoulder, in the end he had indeed become that which they had expected. 

It had been enough to turn the taste of sweet bread to ashes in his mouth, to make him want to throw up each bite he’d already eaten. 

He’d resolved to never steal again, to let this one act stand as retribution but to make sure to never let them find out, never let them influence who he was again. 

But he knew he was the odd one with that. He had felt the temptation to keep stealing, to keep spitefully being the plague they had brought upon themselves, he knew how sweet such revenge tastes and why wouldn’t Loki indulge in it? Why wouldn’t he become the monster Tony trembled before? Why wouldn’t he end up meting out the harm Tony kept cowering before? 

And as he felt the cold chills running down his spine, as he huddled down upon himself, cowering between phantom threats, he wondered how much he’d already burned the bridge that had been extended his way. 

What an impression he had made. 

He had obtained what he’d wanted after all. The alpha had retreated from him, leaving with no expectations of intimacy and no desire to demand any such thing from him, but the victory felt more than hollow. Because it very much seemed as though it wasn’t something that Loki himself would have ever considered more than the basic courtesy that Tony was automatically granted. 

He felt like a jerk. 

Of course, Tony couldn’t afford to give anyone the benefit of the doubt. Neither could he have acted any differently before being certain of Loki’s intentions. 

In fact, even now, even with these unbelievable words and those incomprehensible actions, Tony still couldn’t afford to trust Loki. 

But Loki  _ owned him. _ He had no reason to play nice, no reason to cajole and flatter and intrigue, because he already had the prize. He had free reign over Tony, the blessing of society everywhere to do just as he wished and carefully averted eyes should he be rough enough to do irreparable damage. After all, one didn’t go to jail if they beat their dog to death, why should it be different if they did the same to their omega? 

The only thing Tony could think of was that either he didn’t know, or he wanted something different. Not just a broken doll to empty his passions into. Not just a convenient hole to fuck and a pair of clever hands to cook and clean. 

But Tony was getting ahead of himself. He was letting hope spark in his chest, letting his mind run with incomplete data and reaching for a conclusion that would answer his heart’s desire and not reality. 

An omega in their world could not afford optimism, or hope, or faith, or trust. 

They needed to keep their wits to themselves and prioritize their own survival above all things. 

And yet, he still  _ wished, yearned _ for the ghostly images conjured by his mind in his moment of weakness. Images of an alpha who cherished him truly, who cupped his cheek with tenderness and professed his love. Of a man who held his mate close, not because it was his property, not because if he did not the other would escape or lash out to defend himself, but to keep close and share intimacy and tenderness. 

Why did he torment himself in such a way? He was not naive enough to believe in pretty words and a single act of selflessness. He had seen Emma after _she’d_ fallen for such low tricks. He’d seen her broken form her bowed head stained with mud and spit. 

But Loki already had him. 

That was the part that made no sense. 

What did an alpha need seduction for when the omega was already locked in their home, bought and paid for? 

No alpha he knew would ever bother, seduction was for Os you could never touch otherwise. It was to induce a false sense of security until the foolish ones walked into the trap and bound themselves to them irredeemably. It was to lure them to their bed before leaving them to deal with whatever fallout they would have to spend the rest of their lives paying for. 

But what did that mean when an alpha who had you in their grasp did not take advantage of the situation? What did it mean when they stayed polite and calm even in spite of provocation? What did it mean when they went to sleep on their own without even alluding to a request of their omega joining them?

Nothing made sense anymore. Nothing about  _ Loki _ made sense. 

Perhaps he should stop thinking of him as an alpha. Perhaps he should think of him as a wolf, instead, a wild creature of the forest, one who respected the ones who bore the cubs. 

But then, how was he to know that their own displays of intercourse were not also acts of savagery and power plays? How was he to know whether force was the difference between those who ended up broken and used, and those who towered over their ‘lessers’? 

How was he to know if those ideas on nature were not just wishful thinking, a way for him to cling to the idea of justice existing somewhere? 

What did it matter anyway? It would not stop alphas everywhere from doing as they wished. Who of them would ever bother reading his theories, let alone modify their behavior accordingly? If they even knew how to read. 

Tony needed to think. He needed to get away from there, to get some fresh air or something, anything that could help him make sense of what was happening. 

Had he still been in the Academy, he would have gone up the roof, or spoken to Emma. 

But Emma was gone, away to live her life and rule the world from the shadows, and he was stuck inside the caves, not allowed to cross back to the entrance, let alone take a walk through the forest for some stargazing. 

But then. 

The wolfman was not there anymore, asleep possibly, but more likely avoiding him. The edict not to leave was given non-verbally, by the wolf, not the man. In theory, Tony could pretend ignorance, feign incomprehension and still go out. Just for a while, just long enough to stretch his legs and breathe some fresh air. 

He would come back afterwards, of course. 

And perhaps that would finally make the alpha start behaving normally. The way Tony expected. 

Wouldn’t it be better then, not to rock the boat? Not to push, not to rebel? 

Tony sneered in disgust at his own thoughts, at how easy it had been for him to almost give in to weakness. 

To bend and conform and be a nice and perfect little omega just so he could have more scraps of kindness thrown his way? 

No. He could not start on such a slippery slope. 

He was Emma’s cub. He wasn’t going to live by anyone’s rules but his own. 

He could not spend his life waiting for approval, asking, begging for scraps,  _ playing nice. _

He was not nice. 

No. He couldn’t ask for permission, because what would happen if the alpha said  _ ‘no’? _

Tony smiled a bitter smirk. 

Clearly, he was not made to live with anyone. Rules of courtesy, of coexistence, were things he would lash out against. Anything that would require him to act submissively would be something he would revolt against. 

To think, he had dreamed of being able to coexist with a partner. In quiet moments with Emma, he would tell her of his deepest, most shameful dreams, of a small house shared between him and his loving partner, of their imaginary lives together, of Emma living there with them, happy and alone as she wished to be. Some days he dreamed of a family, small feet pattering about and grabbing onto ‘Auntie Em’‘, others he preferred to imagine moments of tenderness between himself and his dream-partner. 

But now, as he was standing alone and lost in the place he’d thought could be his home, he was starting to realize those had always been pipe dreams. 

Because, who could ever love someone who could not even show the most basics of courtesies? How could he ever have a partner when the first alpha who showed him the smallest modicum of respect had it thrown back into his face? Why would anyone ever make the effort to get close to him when all they would get in return was abuse and rudeness? 

What was wrong with him? 

But then, how could he do any different? How could he possibly take that weird person at face value? 

Loki made no sense!

But then, Tony knew, he could not stand any of the alphas that  _ did _ make sense. He despised them, feared them, resented them. 

And any alpha he met got colored by the same brush, even those that didn’t fit in the picture. 

Tony hadn’t thought himself so prejudiced, but he knew better than to trust kind words coming from an A. 

He could remember perfectly well the circumstances in which he’d first seen Emma, after all. 

But it still didn’t make sense with Loki. 

There would be no payoff to such a strange move. Was it some kind of long game? In fact what use was playing when you already had what you wanted? 

The only thing Tony could think of was that Loki seeked something different than what Tony expected from other alphas. 

So. Perhaps he didn’t want sex. But clearly he’d been interested in Tony. He was certainly shameless enough, and not coy nor shy about his naked body, didn’t react in any way negatively to Tony’s perusal. 

Then maybe he wasn’t adverse to sex but did not  _ seek _ it? 

It was mind boggling. 

What was his play? What was he after? What did he  _ want _ with Tony?

Could a lone omega sold off to a mysterious alpha really afford to trust the alpha’s motives at face value? 

But what other choice did he have? 

What could he _ do? _

Without notice, Tony’s feet had taken him outside, just by the opening of the wolf’s den. 

Or perhaps  _ their _ den? 

As he let himself slide down the rock wall and slump against the mouth of the cave, Tony figured he would know soon enough. It would all depend on how the alpha reacted to that last provocation. 

Tony tilted his head up, breathing out sadly as he gazed upon the star-speckled sky for the first time in months. 

He’d missed the sky when locked up in his father’s—in  _ Howard’s— _ mansion, but he’d barely felt the loss when in the wolf’s company, even though the ceilings were much lower and the lightning quite darker. 

He would wonder why that was, if he did not already know. 

He wished the alpha— _ Loki— _ would prove himself as fair and kind as his Sir Wolf had been. 

And there, alone with only the stars to judge him, he let himself dare to  _ hope.  _


	5. Chapter 5

The boy was a wreck. 

Loki had expected as much of course. He’d seen it in the greed of the oily bald man and in the dismissiveness and disgust in the bearded one, but he had failed to take into account all that it would mean. 

To think his little charge was more scared of his human shape than his bestial one. 

The world had truly fallen on its head. 

It made him wish for those old days where people trembled at the mere whisper of his name and heeded his words to the letter lest they suffered his wrath. 

But those days were over, and without the backing of his reputation, of their fear and awe, there was little he could do to change the course of things. 

It still made him wish to take his revenge on whoever had hurt his new packmate, tear into pieces whoever had a hand in turning those eyes to sharp flint, in staining them with suspicion, in cowing his bright heart into such a fearful little rabbit. 

He could not, of course. Such had been the price of his little packmate. With their offering, Loki would leave their town in peace for one decade. 

He had thought it better to act fast and take the boy before more misfortune befell him, to prevent more of the bright fire from being snuffed out little by little. The alternative being to simply conquer the land once more, the way the Gods of Old had done, the way  _ he  _ had done, some centuries ago. 

But the times were different, humans, the Old Magic not quite the same, its reaction to mortal weaponry was volatile. 

He had preferred to act fast. To do his utmost best to remove the boy from their noxious influence as soon as possible. 

He did not regret it, he could not. He had seen the wounds on his new packmate’s wrists, the redness on his neck, the way he had taken quite a bit too long before being able to use his hands normally, the way his voice had sounded a tad bit to breathy, the soft echo of a wheeze as he spoke during the remainder of the day. 

The thought that Tony could possibly have spent even a single day longer in such conditions was abhorrent. 

And yet, he could not help but wonder if it had been the right choice. 

Because clearly, his ward could not trust him. 

It was always smoother, faster to work  _ within _ a system’s corruption in order to obtain what one wanted. It had always been his philosophy,  _ ‘use the system for all it’s worth, and then bring it down upon those corrupted heads.’ _

It was the first time he questioned those methods. 

Because how was he any different from those other alphas who would have just taken his Tony against his will? How could Tony possibly know the difference? After all, hadn’t he bought him like cattle all the same? 

No, it was no wonder when he heard his new kin leave their den, shuffling steps clumsy yet determined as he went ever further away from Loki’s resting form. 

His wolf-heart broke, but Loki bit back the whine that wanted to escape from his all too human lips. 

Tony had not feared the wolf, but he could not trust an alpha that owned his freedom. It was more than expected really. Or at least it should have been. 

His too keen ears caught even the smallest of suffles, the slide of dirt and gravel as Tony climbed up the gentle slope that lead to the depth of the Forest. 

Loki would not stop Tony from leaving, of course, not if he truly could not stand to remain, not if his very presence brought such fear to his golden eyes that he could see the white of his eyes surrounding his too fixed pupils. He had been able to hear the normally strong and steady heartbeat turn rabbit-quick and erratic, see the breath shorten then stop in a parody of death, gaze detached from reality, reliving a far-away past. 

How could he possibly make the young man stay with him when his mere presence reopened such painful scars?

However, he could not simply abandon the young omega to his own devices. This world was too dangerous, too hostile for people of his gender. He would need to make sure he ended up in a place quite far from this toxic country, and even then protect him from afar, pull enough strings from the shadows to keep him happy and healthy, to ensure he could find a comfortable situation where he could easily support himself. 

Perhaps he could even send him to Alfheim, let him have a taste of the respect and normalcy he should have received from the start, let him settle in a place where there would be people he could trust. 

It would not be easy, but Loki had faith that Tony would thrive in any environment, and Loki truly wished for the boy to accomplish himself to his fullest. 

He would manage. 

Of course, Loki would have much preferred to be the one to help Tony find his footing, would have liked easing him into a different sort of mindset and gradually introduce him to the other realm’s foreign cultures, instead of simply dropping him there with such whiplash, but should it not be Tony’s choice? 

Already Loki had taken so much from him. Could he truly afford to take his free will as well? 

After all, this would not endanger him, merely disorientate. And between the ills of the mind, perhaps the newness and strangeness would soothe his packmate’s nerves as the wolf’s guise had. 

Loki only regretted that he could no longer share those playful moments with the one he’d started to think of as kin. Especially with the way their conversation had gone, if one could call it that. 

Especially with the way Tony was running away at the first opportunity, stealing away into the night as soon as the option was there. 

There were no predators in the immediate surroundings of his den, Loki could afford to mourn the lost possibilities for a few more minutes before going to guard the boy through the shadows of the Forest. 

But then, as the minutes slipped by, with nary a sound, not even the rustling of feet through the underbrush, not the slightest broken twig. 

Momentary panic had Loki scramble out of his bedding before a second check made him notice the almost too quiet beat of a human heart, slow, steady,  _ calm. _

Tony.

Tony whose breaths were deep and strong, if trembling with what Loki suspected was cold. 

Tony who was no longer scared, who had not run away, nor thrown a tantrum or disappeared within the panicked recesses of his hidden mind. 

Tony who was  _ cold.  _

The sense of purpose felt too small, woefully inadequate to express his commitment, his fascination, his care, and yet he clung to it nonetheless, knowing that any step he could take in order to have his packmate trust him once more was a step in the right direction. 

Hurriedly, Loki went through the chest of beddings, choosing Tony’s favorite, a bulky yet incredibly soft monstrosity that would surely suffice to keep the boy warm even through the night air. Weaving through a quick spell to aid in the distribution and conservation of heat, Loki then went on to join the young man outside but then paused. 

He glanced consideringly at the chest left neglected in the corner. Clothes itched against his skin, they felt scratchy and unwieldy, no matter what type of fabric he used. That was due to his dual nature and the deep connection he had to the essence of the Forest, he needed to be able to feel it through every inch of him. 

But Tony was scared. Tony had been raised in a world where rape was something that was not unexpected from people of his gender and designation, a world where he could not trust his brethren’s intentions. 

Loki put on the pants before leaving the room.

His steps were silent. Too silent. He knew Tony could not hear him if he did not broadcast his presence, and after their disastrous encounter earlier, he thought it would be better for him not to overly startle him. It would already be challenging enough to speak with him without adding to the problem. 

But Tony had stayed. 

There was time yet to earn his trust. To make it so that he could look upon him without fear in his eyes, to make it so that he could look to him for comfort. 

It would take time, he knew. 

But Loki was patient. As patient as the forest, as the stars and Yggdrasil itself. 

And Tony was worth it. 

He had seen him as he walked the realms and he’d been stunned by his soul, so bright, so angry and yet so heart-wrenchingly clever and kind. He’d observed from afar, trying to catch a glimpse of him each time he came through Midgard. He didn’t manage every time, there was even a time when he’d wondered if the boy had passed. 

But then, he’d heard a cry, the kind of scream that souls made right before they broke. He’d rushed through the paths, and seen him then, once more, and horror had filled his heart at the damage. 

There was despair in that bright soul, hopeless rage and deep  _ old  _ wounds. He’d been bent... but not broken. The scars were healed cleanly, the empathy not snuffed out, not the curiosity or the yearning for something better. 

Coming closer to the scene, he’d heard negotiations for what was supposed to be a betrothal, but looked more like business negotiations. He’d seen cold greed and vindication, scorn. 

And he’d decided to break his personal rule and intervene with the affairs of mankind once more. 

After all, the boy had asked, even if he could not remember such. His  _ soul _ had asked. 

It was strange for Loki to pay attention to mortal souls and their cries. There were so many souls, so many of them in distress, what was one amongst the many? 

Loki could not tell why it was that one that had touched his heart and not another. There were a thousand reasons, and yet none seemed to feel quite right, quite  _ enough.  _

But after having watched the boy, who was not quite a boy any longer, in fact, after having lived with him for those few weeks, Loki wasn’t surprised about it any longer. 

And now, watching his profile in the gentle glow of moonlight, his pensive eyes turned to the heavens, his relaxed stance… No matter what their next conversation would bring, what his packmate would decide upon, or in what capacity Tony would allow it… 

Loki could no longer imagine living without the young man by his side. 


	6. Chapter 6

Tony was thrown from his reverie by the gentle sound of crunching gravel. 

It was close to him, but it did not make him startle. He’d been expecting Loki to come out and talk to him for a while now, and he supposed he could appreciate the courtesy of announcing his presence thusly, instead of risking the risk of scaring him with a voice appearing right by his side. 

Loki was certainly silent enough for it. 

Should he take it as a good sign? 

He had calmed down some, enough for the shock to pass and for him to be able to put his reactions into perspective. He knew that the wolf had been kind and generous toward him. The wolf had no ill intent toward him, and it did seem as though Loki the alpha hadn’t either. 

With a cool head he was able to see how patient Loki had been, and how utterly unlike anyone he’d ever met in his life. 

The logical conclusion would be that Loki was trustworthy, but then one didn’t spend nearly two decades learning to suspect anyone and anything, only to just start trusting the first wolf that diverged the slightest from the previously observed pattern. 

But then, it did mean that whatever Loki’s ploy, Tony could not uncover it just yet. He could not simply needle him into blurting out his goals, his deepest wish. He could not provoke him into revealing his true color. 

Pushing an alpha to conform to the mold Tony so ressented was against everything he believed in. 

The least he could do was offer Loki a chance. 

He knew he was naive,  _ too _ gullible. Too hopeful. But then, wasn’t it better to get burnt and still have tried than to simply refuse to reach out, refuse to believe in humanity at all? 

The stars offered him no answers, and yet they brought peace to his heart. 

Tony had always been clever. He’d learned later to be sneaky and discerning. 

But sometimes, insight was not enough, sometimes no matter how much he observed, he found no true answer. What, then, was he supposed to do?

What would Emma have done?

But then, he knew what she would have done. She would have played along and seduced him, she would have used the pretense of kindness with a dash of fake desire, and obtained devotion.

But Tony never could stomach that kind of play. And Emma had never forced it on him either, swiping her thumb along his cheek with a tragic smile, blessing his innocence and praying for him to never have to pay its price, to never have it ripped from him as violently as hers had been. 

No, there was a reason Tony was called a ‘problem omega’, no matter how much he’d ensured to not stick out too much. 

He had always refused the pretense, the playacting. Of course he could converse with people he would rather spit on, he could play along the role of ‘sweet, but stupid wet-hole’ that they’d pushed on them all. But faking affection? Attraction?  _ Respect? _

Tony never quite managed. 

Never quite got the motivation to even try. 

The idea made him feel dirty in a way even Ty’s leering hadn’t. 

But then, if he couldn’t take the example of his mentor, what could he do instead? How could he possibly plan for this? 

He would manage of course. No matter how much he’d learned with Emma, how he’d trained himself, his speech patterns, his keen observation, he’d always thrived better in the heat of the moment. He’d loved it, the rush of adrenaline when he’d managed to insult one of those oh-so-mighty knotbrains to their face in a manner that they would never notice. He loved the times he managed to make a fool of all those uppity ponces while coming out of it white as snow. 

This would probably be more of that. Improvisation, reading the room, figuring out where the line to toe was. 

Perhaps it would be less antagonistic. Perhaps Loki would prove himself the one being in the universe not to crush Tony’s hopes. Perhaps Tony would have someone he could trust by his side, someone he could rely on and care for, with none of the vultures usually hanging around him. 

Perhaps. Tony could hope. But then, it would all depend on how this would all go. 

So, how should he interpret Loki’s careful approach? Was it supposed to be soothing? Or menacing? 

In the end, he decided to do nothing. The ball was in Loki’s court, after all. How would he act without Tony’s attempt to lead? Where would he take them? 

He remembered Emma, and their makeshift Ballroom. He remembered her advice. 

_ ‘When you want control, take the lead’ she’d told him, ‘but when you want to know where they are aiming to go, then let them. Follow along for a while, at least until you have a good idea of what they’re aiming for. And then, slowly disengage. _

_ Lest you end up caught within their plots.’  _

Loki did not seem to be any more confident in how to handle the situation next, standing silently next to him. 

Tony didn’t bother turning his head. 

The first move should be Loki’s. 

He did not know what he expected. A hail, maybe? Or at least a few words. 

He no longer expected physical violence from him, not since he’d cleared his head. Sir Wolf had always been exceedingly careful with him and there was no reason to believe he would not be the same as a human. Perhaps there could be angry words for his trespass when it had been made clear that Tony should not leave. Perhaps there would be questions. 

He did not expect apologies. No alpha  _ ever _ apologized. 

Neither did he expect the sudden burst of warmth, the weight upon his shoulder. 

Blinking, slowly raising a hand to his shoulder, he felt along the blanket that had been thrown over his back. It was soft, radiating a gentle sort of heat that seeped into his frozen bones. 

Dazedly caressing the soft fabric, he turned his head to look at his wolf, the way he stood beside him in a manner that seemed too awkward for such a self possessed man, the peculiar slant in his body that spoke of one not sure of their welcome. 

He took note of the low hanging pants that the alpha wore, the way his hands kept pulling and scratching at it, almost subconsciously. 

To think that he had so much impact on an alpha. He would feel vindictively gratified, if not for how guilty he felt. He had grossly overreacted against one of the only people to show him true kindness, and care. 

Of course he did not yet know if it would last or if it was merely a front, nor did he know what Loki truly aimed with that show of kindness, but… Hadn’t the wolf done enough for him to extend to him the benefit of the doubt? 

His fingers tugged on the soft fleece, numb and reddened as they were, they prickled as they soaked in the warmth, but it did not hurt nearly as much as Tony knew it should. Nor should cloth be able to radiate warmth like this. 

More magic, for Tony’s sake. For his comfort. Just like the clothes on his back, the cuffs on his wrists, the food in his belly. 

How low were his standards that such things would not be considered as something granted from anyone hosting him? And yet, even with his deplorable prior experiences taken into account, he knew that Loki’s care had truly been considerate, generous. 

The intent could not be misconstrued. 

Unless Loki was playing the long game for some sordid reason Tony could not fathom, there was no reason to believe he was anything but genuine. 

Tony could give him the benefit of the doubt. He could look to him and see a man and not an alpha, speak to him as his host and not his owner, seek his counsel and company as he had the wolf’s. 

He could do all that, and it would cost him nothing. Nothing but, maybe, some small measure of sanity. 

There was certainly a lot to lose. He could never forget Emma’s broken form after the betrayal of her lover. 

But Emma had survived, she’d become strong and independent. And bitter and suspicious, but nonetheless she’d succeeded. 

And there was so much more he was likely to win. 

Like the home he’d always yearned for. 

Like a family. 

Turning his head to look at Loki, he startled at the strange yellow glow of his pupils. So the way they reflected light was like a wolf’s. 

He wondered what else from him was so very wolf-like. 

Hopefully his character was. 

Tony smiled, hesitantly. The alpha—Loki looked nervous, but not aggressive, clearly waiting for Tony’s cue. 

And Tony had decided he would give it. 

His throat felt tight, nervousness choking him, but it didn’t matter. Tony had never let his fear stop him. 

With a tilt to the head he indicated the space next to him, inviting the— Loki to sit next to him with as much decorum as he would in a ballroom, regardless of the fact that he was currently sitting on the hard ground, his ass aching from the uncomfortable seat and the cold numbing him. 

It did not matter. 

Many things hung upon this conversation, if either of them would ever dare to break the uneasy silence between them. 

Slowly but gracefully, Loki lowered himself next to him. There was no hesitation in the movement, but Tony still felt that it was careful, as though Loki had taken great care not to spook him, not to be as wild as he could be. 

He averted his eyes, burying himself in the blanket he’d been offered. 

He felt bad that the man had to restrain himself for his sake. But at the same time, it made him feel strangely emotional. 

No one had ever changed their behavior for his sake, no one had ever been careful with him. 

Emma had  _ accepted _ him, but then she’d never changed herself. She would never change herself for anyone again, and Tony admired that about her, her wild and untamable spirit. 

But then. 

Loki. 

Loki was being kind, careful.  _ Considerate.  _

Tony rather liked it. 

There was a helpless smile pulling at his cheeks, and when he brought numb fingers to them, hiding his face, they felt  _ burning. _

A glance to the side showed the wolf carefully gauging his reactions,  eyes quiet and intense. 

The silence between them stretched, and Tony forcefully relaxed into it. 

Loki was not there to seek a confrontation, nor was he looking to punish him. 

In fact, he had gone out of his way to make Tony comfortable. 

There was a foot of space between them, a thoughtful gesture to make him more comfortable. 

The wolf tended to press himself as close as possible instead, flopping down at Tony’s side on every occasion. 

Tony had loved the warmth of it. 

Now the heat came from a gift, and it was indeed nice, and soft. But it did feel different from the comfort he’d gotten from the gentle heat radiating from his friend’s fur. Less reassuring. 

Well, perhaps he needed to take matters into his own hands. 

Glancing sideways, eyeing the alpha’s wary stance, he shifted closer, slowly, incrementally, until he could rest his shoulder against Loki’s own. 

Indeed, the warmth felt different. More alive. 

Tony let himself slump against his wolf’s side. 

Perhaps, then, just perhaps, things could be alright. 

Slowly, with his resolve firm strengthened and the suspicion lightened, as the tension he’d held all day long finally dissolved and true calm settled over him, sleep started to overtake him. 

Loki smelled like the wolf. 

_ Perhaps _ he could trust him. 

And, as his lids started feeling heavy and his grasp on the blanket loosened, his head falling on the alpha’s shoulder, he proceeded to do just that. 


	7. Chapter 7

Trust was a strange thing. 

A precious fragile gift, something that for some people are taken for granted and for others has been broken so many times it’s become as elusive as the rarest of mythical creatures. 

And yet. 

And yet, the boy with golden eyes and a scarred heart had extended such a treasured gift. 

To Loki it felt as though he’d been entrusted with the most beautiful crystal-spun bird. Something small and pulsing with life, something that was only too willing to grow but ever so fragile. 

And Loki had vowed to make sure to nurture that trust to the best of his ability. 

It had been a week since that day he’d shifted back to his bipedal shape. A week since Tony had watched him with eyes wide with horror and panic, a week since he’d believed the young man to have fled his care, since he’d found him in the entrance instead, and he’d allowed himself to fall asleep on his shoulder. 

Ever since that time, Loki had worn pants. 

They scratched and itched , hindered his movements and ripped way too easily, but he’d nonetheless made sure to keep himself sufficiently covered for his packmate to feel comfortable. 

He’d also taken to accompanying on walks outside, watching the stars with his little human. He’d stayed mostly quiet, letting Tony’s uncontrollable need to fill the silence give him a gauge for his state of mind, all the while making sure to be more than transparent about his own feelings and motives. 

Being so overwhelmingly honest was never entirely too comfortable, however Tony’s comfort was certainly worth the small adjustment in behavior. 

He had learned much during these days. 

While his wolf-skin had allowed him to observe the young man’s behavior, their conversations had been mainly one-sided, for obvious reasons. 

And while having a glimpse into Tony’s thoughts process had been fascinating, it was truly when confronted with a receptive partner that Tony truly shined. There was a wit in his repartee that was magnificent, a cleverness in which he played with words, both his own and his partner’s. 

Loki loved it. 

In fact, he could truly say that the longer Tony stayed, the more he felt himself falling desperately more in love with him. 

And, as it happened, it was more than likely that Tony would never actually be receptive to any manner of romantic or sexual entanglement. 

He didn’t know the details of what he’d been through during those years before Loki had found him, but he hardly needed to in order to see how traumatic it had been and how much it still affected Tony. 

Of course, the young man was getting more and more comfortable as time went, still hesitantly and yet surely making himself at home in their den and by Loki’s side. 

So Loki would wait, of course he would, to see if Tony ever reciprocated his feelings. And regardless of if the young omega  _ ever _ would, Loki would never let anything he did make Tony uncomfortable. 

The next move would be Tony’s. 

It would  _ always _ be Tony’s. 


	8. Chapter 8

Living with Loki as a human was surprisingly comfortable. In fact, it felt a lot like it had been when he was a wolf, but with better conversation and less hair. 

And more eye-candy. 

Though he did try to keep his ogling to a minimum. After all, it wouldn’t do to ... _ invite _ something that he did not truly wish for. 

Not that he truly believed in the victim-blaming tripe that they were fed, but one did not become the pupil of Emma Frost by being careless and idealistically suicidal. 

However, he was now rather convinced that Loki would never take advantage of him that way. It had taken him some time, and he did still tend to flinch away at odd times, but Loki had always backed off, subtly giving Tony room to breathe and feel safe without necessarily putting an emphasis on his reactions. 

So, yes, Tony had found himself growing comfortable again in Loki’s presence. 

And, in fact, enjoying the time he’d spent around the other. 

It had nothing to do with being stuck alone with him, he knew. There were quite a few people he’d been stuck with over time, but besides Emma, he would have much rather spent a lifetime in isolation than stay around those. Regardless of what studies about human contact would tell. 

He’d had enough of poisonous people. 

In contrast, Loki felt like a balm. Emma had been his anchor, his tutor, his support until he could finally grow into his own, and she’d left when she thought he could stand by his own power. 

But being near Loki felt as though he was healing from wounds so old he had forgotten what it felt like not to ache. 

There was respect between them. True respect. 

It felt almost natural, almost like it was a given thing, almost like Loki had never believed them to be anything but equals. Tony did not have to prove anything, did not have to fight for even the smallest things, did not have to feel as though his words were condescended to at best, falling on deaf ears at worst. 

There was nothing expected of him but the same thing that had been offered. Respect, courtesy, support. 

It felt good. 

In fact it felt so incredibly perfect that sometimes Tony felt tears coming to his eyes without truly knowing why. Just the smallest gestures had his emotions flare up, something tender and wounded clawing up his throat at each show of kindness. 

Thankfully, Loki had not commented on it, though Tony feared it was because he’d thought he’d done something to hurt him somehow, or bring up past memories. 

Tony knew Loki suspected that his time before he came in his care was  _ abusive _ somehow, though it was rather hard to miss. But Loki did not know of the specifics, and Tony was rather grateful for that. 

There was no need for it, after all. 

What need was there to talk about it? 

He’d done that already with Emma, had her counsel him and walk through his feelings, his actions, wrangling his emotions in order and finding an outlet for what simply refused to be muted. 

Wasn’t it strange how cathartic petty acts of revenge could be? 

No, the hardest parts had been after she’d left, but it hadn’t lasted long before Howard had decided Tony was ‘ripe’ for selling off. 

No, those were memories better left untrodden. 

Dwelling on dark corners never led to anything good. 

He was building something new there, with his wolf-man. 

For the first time in his life, he felt like he was part of a pack. He felt like he was  _ wanted.  _

He felt like there was someone who  _ cared _ about his well being. 

Emma had cared. Emma had been  _ pack, _ had been his perfect big sister, had been everything to him before she left. 

But he had always known that he wouldn’t be able to keep her. 

It was not just the wildness in her gaze, that of a free roaming spirit. Loki had the same after all, and he was a wolf on top of it. An alien one, if Tony could read the clues right. 

No, it was the spiteful rage, the desire for revenge and destruction that he saw sometimes when she wasn’t paying attention. 

One cannot love while on a crusade. 

And even if Emma had decided to keep him anyways, he would have only been a hindrance, a weakness that she would have brought to danger without the ability to protect and that would break her heart. 

That was why he had not tried to dissuade her, to suggest a different ending for them both. 

He had his dreams that she did not agree with, and she had her own. Both could understand the other, but they could no longer walk the same path. 

Tony had made his peace with it a long time ago, though he did hope that they would meet again. 

He hoped that Emma would succeed in her crusade, that she would bring down the toxic society they lived in and bring forth a new age of equality, just as they’d discussed. 

He hoped she got everything she dreamed for. 

Because she’d hoped that he did so as well. 

He wondered how much of that dream of hers came from him. How much of it came from his tearful confessions of a pipe dream of happiness and home? 

When he’d first met her there had been aimless violence in her heart, desire to make them pay, to rise above it and become untouchable. 

But after that time, her words had changed, they’d become nuanced. Just a little, nothing that anyone who did not listen as closely as Tony did would ever notice, but then, it was always the little things that mattered most wasn’t it? 

It gave him hope. 

Hope that she would find happiness in her success, because there was never a doubt in his mind that Emma Frost could succeed at anything she got her mind to. 

And as he lay there, in Loki’s lap, sharing space and warmth and mingling their scents, he figured it would not be impossible for him to find her again. 

If his youthful fantasy of a pack that behaved with honor and affection could be true, then his hope for Emma to be there also might not be so farfetched. 

Queen Emma coming to visit, looking as prim and proper as she ever did, only for the pitter patter of small feet to come and greet her, joyous cries of ‘Aunt Emma’ resounding through the den, a tender and indulgent smile from his lover—that had somehow started to look like Loki… 

In fact, it was the very same smile he could see now, Loki looking down at him with such tenderness as he caught Tony daydreaming to himself. 

Tony reached up, smile soft, gently placing the tips of his fingers on the corner of those smiling lips. 

Yes. He was so very close to his dream. 

Close enough to touch. 


	9. Chapter 9

There were gifts. 

Tony could not make any sense of it, but there were gifts. 

Gifts that felt a lot like courting gifts, but without the added pressure of it. 

But they were indubitably gifts. 

It had been a few months since Tony had started living with Loki. Some days he was a wolf, others a man, but it no longer felt any different to Tony. They were all Loki. they were all the man he trusted most, the man that was pack. 

Tony had stopped using the second bedding pretty early on, preferring the warmth of Loki’s body and his calming scent to cuddle to rather than staying alone in his cot. He’d trusted Loki not to make any inappropriate moves, and so far he’d been right. 

They still did the things they used to do when Tony first came, before he knew the wolf could turn human, but with the addition of Loki’s opposable thumbs and ability to speak, their horizons had been dramatically broadened. They explored the cave, of course, they cooked, they talked. They played simple games, told stories, watched the stars. 

Sometimes they went outside, exploring the forest while Loki patrolled. 

Tony did not quite know what being a ‘God of the Forest’ entailed, but it seemed to require patrolling, talking with animals, and, possibly, checking—or helping with, maybe?—plant growth. 

It was still entirely fascinating, though it did look sometimes quite humorous. 

Seeing Loki argue with an angry squirrel certainly made his day. 

And, somehow, having made Tony laugh seemed to have made Loki’s day as well. 

Still. 

Gifts. 

It had all started on that day when Tony had found an old dusty book in one of the travel bags left behind from previous explorers. 

Tony had been so enthused he had very spontaneously kissed Loki’s cheek before bounding to the den in order to curl up with his new reading material. 

Sue him, he had  _ missed _ books. The single good thing about the Academy had been the library that he’d found a way to sneak into. 

As it happened, the book was not terribly interesting, a simple guide to mushrooms, though he figured that since he was now living in a forest with a forest god, it might still be useful knowledge. And it was a book. 

He had spent a good few days on it, absentmindedly cuddling to his wolfman, probably bestowing more affection than he otherwise would, had he been entirely aware of what he was doing. 

This was probably a very interested, borderline manipulative,  _ incredibly thoughtful _ gift. 

An entire chest of books. If Tony had to describe it, he would say it was a random compilation of a single book from every section of a bookstore. It was ridiculously random, completely eclectic, and  _ Tony loved it. _

Loki of course, did not fail to notice it. 

It was the start of a rather bewildering and decidedly  _ gratifying _ trend. 

It was not long until there was a new room to their den entirely filled with bookshelves, even less time until Loki had pinpointed with accuracy Tony’s favorite topics and authors. 

When he figured out that most of those topics centered somehow on physics and their practical applications, he tentatively brought in some small tools that could be used in the most basic experiments. 

When those were received with even greater enthusiasm, Loki had then proceeded to bring more, more tools, more parts, more of everything a budding scientist could ever hope to need. 

Tony felt spoiled. 

But more than that, he felt listened to,  _ supported, _ and he felt like Loki truly cared about him and what was important to him. 

It was both a foreign sensation and a highly welcome one. 

Emma had never had the means to take care of him like that, never had the luxury to indulge his interests. 

Though, she had insured that his efforts in that direction were for his own sake and not Howards, that he would not spend his energies hoping and failing to obtain the approval of a man who never could give it. 

It was not even a question with Loki. 

Tony was quite certain he barely understood most of what Tony spoke of, though he always seemed interested and eager to learn whenever Tony offered to explain his experiments. 

Oftentimes, he showed some similar effect brought on through magic, but mostly, he seemed content enough to let Tony have the spotlight. 

It was getting glaringly obvious that Loki resembled no alpha he’d met previously. 

From the first book that had been handed to him as though it was only natural for an omega to pursue further knowledge to all those little ways Loki made sure Tony had everything he needed to progress in his chosen field. 

The As he’d known would have never allowed an O to know more than them. Though, ridiculously enough, they would most often berate them for showing off, instead of taking the opportunity to further themselves. 

But that hardly mattered anymore. 

He was free of them now, or so it felt. 

The longer he stayed in Loki’s company, the less he worried about his previous life and the constraints he’d had to bend under, and the less he worried about an abrupt about-face of his benefactor. 

He was happy. He was comfortable. He was  _ cherished.  _

His life was changing, little by little, but only through his own actions. 

He’d taken to leaving his personal effects all over the den, discreetly marking the place as his own as much as Loki’s. A hairbrush, a pin, a tunic. A small device that ran along the water, helping with the dishes, another that lifted books to the higher shelves, some that were purely decorative, others quite useful. 

Each of these additions was only met with approval from his denmate, and he’d only gotten more daring since then. 

But never had Loki stopped him. Never had he found the line of what was too much. 

He did not know if there even was one. 

Did Loki consider this place  _ Tony’s _ den, as much as his own?

Hope was growing in his heart like weeds, no matter how often Tony pulled it out. 

Because, the more comfortable he felt, the freer with his affections, often cuddling and leaning on his alpha, and the more relaxed with his words, with his actions. 

Already, he spent their nights nestled in those warm arms, surrounded with Loki’s reassuring scent. 

Slowly, over the days and weeks he’d been living in their den, his own smell had started to match, taking hints of the same pine flavor he always found when he buried his nose to his wolf’s neck. 

He would always carry that hint of pine with him, just like that gentle fragrance of mimosa that carried the memory of Emma’s hidden warmth. 

It was telling, somehow. He was not sure  _ how,  _ or what it meant exactly, but he knew this was something significant. After all, Tony did not smell like anyone from his blood family. 

And somehow, knowing that Loki had managed to imprint himself under his skin did not bother him in the least. 

He smelled like home. 

Tony hid his smile in the dark fur. 


	10. Chapter 10

There was something to be said about spaces. 

Big, small, crowded or bare, Tony had been in many, inhabited a few, felt comfortable in even less. 

But to have a space that was created just for him, dedicated to his needs?

This was new. 

It was very, very new. 

And more than welcome. 

Tony had become comfortable calling the den  _ theirs.  _ It was already more than he’d ever expected to have, it was a blissful, momentous distinction that had made Tony feel that he would be able to have control over his life, that he could actually be comfortable there, have a real  _ home. _

Then the books had come, and the library with them. 

It was a small room, cozy, comfortable and well lit. A place to read and laze about, curled up against his wolf. 

Tony loved it, of course, but he hadn’t thought overmuch on it. 

The books made Tony gift Loki with kisses, and then they needed a place to be stored. It was natural. 

And as comfortable as the room was, it wasn’t as though it wasn’t also to Loki’s benefit—if one could consider some hours with Tony cuddling in their arms a benefit. Most assuredly, Loki did. 

And Loki was also an avid reader, and, indeed, about half the books were Loki’s, though there had never been any question that Tony could read them. It was  _ their  _ den, and  _ their  _ library. 

So, Tony had not actually thought of the place as  _ his,  _ or as created exclusively  _ for him.  _

This, however? 

There was no doubt in Tony’s mind that Loki would never have such a room in his den if Tony had not been there. 

There were high shelves filled with tools and parts, materials Tony recognized from his early days lurking around his father’s workshop. There were low workbenches, wide enough for him to put even the largest of his creations, drafting tables, a glowing forge fire fed with what appeared to be magic creating flames that glowed green. 

Some of the equipment looked foreign, some he’d only seen in his books, but all of those were things he’d only ever  _ dreamed _ of having. 

And yet, here it was, offered to him freely, with no expectations except maybe a kiss. 

Turning his head to Loki, he saw him shuffle, a forced nonchalance that looked too stiff to be real, green eyes trained to a corner of the new room, deliberately avoiding his gaze. 

Tony blinked in astonishment, though he wondered why he was still surprised. 

Loki had never been arrogant, never bragged or preened before him. On the contrary, almost as soon as he’d found out about Tony’s fear, he’d done his best to downplay his more Alpha-ish characteristics, showing a carefulness and concern that had truly brought down most of Tony’s reservations. 

And yet, Loki hardly ever seemed nervous, at least not since that first night, when he’d had to fetch him from outside. 

Loki had not done this to curry favor. 

He’d made him a place that was just  _ his,  _ a room for him to further his skills and pursue his own interests, and he’d done that  _ for Tony. _

Tony could hardly wrap his mind around it. There was something gripping his throat, emotions choking him, fizzling through his limbs as he averted his eyes from Loki’s profile, turning his gaze back to this  _ incredible _ gift, taking it all in. 

It hardly felt real. 

He walked inside, almost in a trance, letting his fingers glide over the polished surface of a worktable, gently laying his hand on the tabletop. 

It wouldn’t have surprised him if it had turned to smoke under his touch. 

It felt too good to be true, like a dream. 

But it was real. And it was no trick, nor leverage against him, a way to manipulate or blackmail him. He knew Loki enough to know this was not something he would do. 

He trusted him. 

Tony turned back around to face his packmate. Loki’s sharp eyes were trained on him, scrutinizing his expressions, taking in each blink, each gesture. 

But Tony did not mind that, he’d gotten used to his wolf’s intensity months ago. 

No, what fascinated him was the faint rosy hue of his cheeks, the way the tip of those slightly pointed ears seemed to almost glow in the warm light of the hearth. 

Emotions were such bothersome things. 

Tony could feel his eyes sting and his breath catch. His chest felt warm and tingly, and there was something wrong with his heart. 

He felt the irrepressible urge to throw himself in Loki’s arms and smother him in kisses. 

And so he did. 

Bowling the alpha over in a running leap, Tony squeezed that beautiful,  _ ridiculous _ wolfman to himself, rubbing his cheek against Loki’s and nuzzling his jaw, pecking kisses over his astonished face, enthusiasm and joy bubbling out of him in giggling sobs, feelings overwhelming him until he was wrecked with them. 

He buried his face in Loki’s neck, feeling waves of hope and grief and hurt and joy crash over him, searing through him and turning him into a pathetic weeping mess as he clung helplessly to his wolfman, his packmate, his anchor in the mess that was his life. 

He’d never thought he would have something like that. 

A place to call his own. It seemed so little, so ridiculous, and yet,  _ and yet.  _

Loki had turned everything upside down, and it  _ hurt,  _ how everything felt so much more  _ right,  _ how it felt unreal and at the same time more  _ sane _ than anything he’d been through before. 

_ It hurt.  _

But, as he felt Loki’s strong,  _ reassuring  _ hand cradle his head, gently brushing through his locks, Tony rather thought that it felt good too. 


	11. Chapter 11

Tony did not often have nightmares. 

He used to. He used to jolt awake in the night, sweaty and alert, ears trained to the shuffling of his dorm mates. He used to wake with a silent scream, and cold sweat, heart racing at the images haunting him, memories and fantasies blending in all too realistic horrors.

He’d finally had something to lose, after all. 

It had waned in time. The fear had become more of a constant fog surrounding him, and he’d learned to use it to his advantage. 

There was very little benefit to poor nights of sleep being haunted by horrific fantasies. 

Of course it had hardly been so easy. The nightmares had not simply stopped just because Tony had grown used to fear. Not even when he’d grown comfortable and started fighting back in his own quiet way. 

But he’d grown used to them, and with time, they’d dulled to a vague unease. 

He’d been careful not to fear sleep, not to avoid rest. 

He could not afford the carelessness brought on by exhaustion. 

But it had been an uneasy truce, the results of forced cohabitation than any true comfort found in oblivion. 

However, ever since he’d taken to sleep with his nose buried in wolf fur, flopped haphazardly and carelessly atop the good-natured beast, the dreams had faded, becoming only faint echoes of unease, easily dismissed. 

And, the longer he’d spend with the wolf, then the man, the more he’d grown used to the scent, the fainter those ghosts. 

These days, Tony no longer felt apprehensive at the prospect of rest, quite the contrary. He found himself quite eager to the moment they would lay together, to the closeness they shared and the solace it brought them. He felt comforted, safe in those arms, his mind quieting to an appreciative purr as he let himself drift peacefully into rest. 

Perhaps that was the reason why the nightmare hit him so hard, breaking through his unwary mind and shattering him to pieces. 

Perhaps it was punishment for having dared to hope, to start forgetting those many years of pain and oppression. 

Or perhaps it was the opposite, perhaps the contrast had only served to remind him of what he’d left behind, what he’d had to face and might still await him should Loki discard him as Howard had done already. 

But Loki was not Howard, he knew that. 

Howard would never have performed even half of Loki’s efforts to earn his trust, he’d never have even bothered acknowledging that Tony had needs that would need answering, let alone work towards giving him the means to fulfill them  _ himself.  _

But he could hardly think of that at the moment, with his eyes tearing up, choked and confused, hands trembling as he tried finding his way in the darkness, needing to get way,  _ away _ from the memories, from the dreadful images that his traitorous mind had brewed up. 

He needed Emma, needed to see her, to reassure himself that she was still fine, still healthy and unmolested, that no one had found out their ruse, no one had uncovered their friendships. 

But he could not do that, could not simply go to her without precautions, could not afford such a slip. He would never forgive himself if his carelessness caused her harm. 

He could weather the fear, could weather the uncertainty if it meant keeping her safe. 

‘Comfort of one day, regrets on the way’, she used to say. 

But Emma wasn’t there anymore. She had married, she had taken her first step on the path to her success, and Tony had no means to check up on her. 

He was no longer at the Academy. 

He was free, he was away from that place, he was safe, he was  _ home.  _

Tony sobbed, hands trembling as he hid his face, wiping at the tears pouring down his face. 

The furry edge of his cuffs brushed against his wet cheek, bringing the itch of a laugh amongst the uncontrollable sobs ripping through his exhausted mind. 

He was being ridiculous. 

“Anthony?” 

The voice was soft, careful, and yet it cut through the stillness between them like thunder. 

Tony’s labored breaths stopped for a moment as he wondered who was talking to him, who was witnessing such weakness from him. What would he have to do to mitigate the fallout, who were they, what did they want from him?

“Anthony, can you hear me?” 

Tony shivered, pressing himself back against the wall. 

He wasn’t at the Academy anymore. He knew that. The air was wrong, the smell was wrong. 

He’d had a nightmare. He knew that too. 

Where was he?

He wasn’t in the basement anymore. He could breathe, though his heaving sobs and shuddering gasps made it harder than it should be. 

He was feeling lightheaded. 

Night terrors. 

It had been a long time since he’d been prone to those. 

But it made sense, knowing what brought on this gripping panic made it easier for him to listen to the kind calm voice, made it possible for him to unfurl from his trembling crouch, to open his eyes and look deep into concerned green orbs. 

They glowed. 

The alienness distracted him enough to let him think of something beyond stale water and torn dresses and mud stains. Loki looked wrecked. 

His eyes were wide with fear his hands held aloft towards him and yet not daring to touch his trembling form, his entire bearing seemed frantic, his usual otherworldly poise disappeared under the overwhelming worry. 

It was no wonder, Tony had ended up a crying mess just twice in a single day after months of optimistic cheer and hopeful caution. 

It was no wonder that Loki would not understand why his mortal packmate was suddenly falling apart. 

And yet, no matter how much Tony tried, how much he struggled, he could not get a hold on himself, could not subdue the barrage of tears crushing him. 

“Sshhh…”

Gently, Loki hushed him, tentatively coming closer, watching his reactions for any panicky responses. 

Tony faintly remembered scurrying him away from his alpha the first night he’d met his wolf as bipedal. Now, though, seeing those sharp eyes trained on him, concern etched on those fine features, that heady smell of home, of  _ LokiTony _ coming from the alpha, he could never imagine doing anything but throw himself in those arms, knowing that they would always catch him, that they would offer comfort unconditionally. 

Warmth enveloped him, strong arms cradling him close, tightening around him like iron bands. Loki’s heartbeat echoed through his body, strong and steady, like great drums seeping through his bones. 

He was pressed against Loki’s warm chest, surrounded by his alpha’s soothing scent, cared for, protected.

Safe. 

Tony gasped in a breath, then another. 

Loki started breathing deeply in turn, setting a slow and calming rhythm, whispering soft, comforting words and gentle hums. 

Slowly, gradually, Tony’s sobs abated and his mind started to clear from the confusion brought on by the nightmare. 

He made no move to detangle himself from Loki’s embrace. 

His breaths slowed, shuddering out of him as though they carried with them the remnants of Tony’s ghosts with them, as though exorcised by Loki’s pine scent filling his lungs. 

Loki cradled his face carefully, tenderly wiping off the trails of salt on his cheeks, eyes soft as he gazed deep into Tony’s soul. 

Tony shuddered, but remained unresisting in Loki’s hold, taking comfort from his alpha’s strength, for his care and affection. 

Not for the first time, Tony found himself comparing Loki to Emma. 

Not that they were in anyway similar, but no one had ever comforted him besides her. And in fact, even if they had bothered to offer, Tony would have never accepted it, nor would he have found their efforts soothing. 

And yet, here was Loki, an alpha who had been witnessed to his most vulnerable state, and yet he had no desire to get away from him, no urge to hide himself and go lick his wounds in private. 

He did not care to put himself together and recover his composure. 

He did not care that his alpha had seen him so defenseless, so  _ weak. _

Tony trusted him. 

Seeds of hysteria started to brew in his mind as he realized  _ how much _ he’d let Loki under his skin, how deep into his heart. 

Belatedly, he wondered when he had started considering Loki to be  _ his _ alpha. 

But then, perhaps it made sense after all. 

Loki was not human. He was either a wolf, or a god or an alien of some kind, but whatever he was, he was  _ not human.  _

He was  _ kind _ instead, attentive, trampling all over the rules Tony had learned all his life, unwilling to let Tony be shackled again by those poisonous constructs. 

In Tony’s experience, the worst monsters were the most mundane. They hid their rotten hearts behind a perfect façade of respectability. 

Loki wore it on his skin, letting his fur bristle and his teeth gleam in the night, displaying his otherness without a care to anyone’s opinion. 

Except for Tony’s. His comfort, his well being. His boundaries. 

Trust was a precious, fragile thing, but when carefully cultivated, it could bring down mountains. 

Cuddling closer to the worried wolfman, relaxing into his ministrations and letting his mind drift as he listened to Loki start weaving tales and songs, Tony felt himself at peace. There, all of his senses saturated by Loki, he’d never felt safer. 

Yes, perhaps it was no wonder that Tony had chosen him as his alpha. 

After all, who else would ward off his nightmares?


	12. Chapter 12

Days went by, and Tony had not seemed to revert to the maudlin mood he’d shown on his first days in the den, nor did he seem overly frightful as was the case when he’d first seen Loki’s humanoid appearance. 

Loki was feeling tentatively optimistic. 

Perhaps it really was just a nightmare. 

It had scared him, seeing his packmate so very terrified, unable to recognize dreams from reality. 

And as much as it had warmed him to have Tony so readily accept comfort from him, he would have much rather spared him the suffering. 

Loki knew better than to interfere with dreams, or to meddle with the subconscious mind. Spirits and psyches were fragile, complex things, wrought in symbolisms and traps, and no two minds were the same. Even the smallest of disturbances could have wide reaching ramifications. 

And yet, Loki wanted nothing more than to shield Tony from more of that suffering. 

He’d taken to using alternative routes to soothe his friend’s soul. 

At first, he’d simply intended to stand guard over his mortal’s dreams, a silent vigil in order to ward off the nightmares, but he found himself unable to stop at just that. 

Loki had always orbited Tony, ever since he’d first come into his den, with his bright and curious personality, his somehow accident-prone bearing, that sharp wit hidden between a shield of politeness. 

But now, Loki found himself almost obsessed. 

He could watch Tony read for hours, his eyes simply unable to focus upon his own texts. 

He would join Tony to his new workshop and watch, enraptured as Tony flitted about around the place, pulling out boxes and rifling through the contents, familiarizing himself with his gift. 

He found himself rooted there, bewitched by the sheer joy and enthusiasm painted on Tony’s features, the grace that overcame him, the  _ passion. _

How curious that this young mortal had managed to keep him spellbound once more. It was getting to be a habit. 

He found himself wishing that Tony would always be so happy. Found himself guiltily wishing that Tony would look at him with a similar fascination, would turn his inquisitive and welcoming gaze to him as well. 

Wishing to see if he’d look quite so fascinated if Loki took him through the paths of Yggdrasil and showed him the wonders of the Nine. 

Wondered if perhaps he’d turn away from them in order to kiss him instead. 

_ ‘Oh.’ _

Perhaps his affections had addled his mind, that he hadn’t noticed himself falling in love. 

It had started with simple curiosity, with heart-wrenching  _ sympathy. _ There had been something beautiful and tragic to that soul, and yet it had rung with not only strength and purpose, but also kindness and hope. 

Loki had found himself granting its owner with respect and admiration long before he’d even seen those jeweled eyes and that delicate face. 

And with Tony blossoming more and more with each day spent in his care, the young omega allowing himself more freedom, more assurance, with his true personality coming to the for and slowly including the god in his confidence, opening himself to sharing his mind and quips, how could Loki have possibly resisted him?

Even when Tony was distracted, mind wandering and hands idle, fiddling with spare bits of scrap, he was still unfairly charming, and endlessly fascinating. 

There was something precious to those moments where Tony was so engrossed in his work that everything else seemed to disappear. 

From the boy who hadn’t let him out of his field of vision for weeks, who had made sure never to turn his back on him since he’d found out about his humanoid shape? It was an astonishing show of trust, to let himself shut off the entire world even when Loki was there, watching. 

Loki had promised himself not to abuse it, and yet, here he found himself, transfixed by this young man’s genius, by the concentration on his face as he processed calculations, by the steadiness of his hands as he drew schematics and new designs. 

Clearly, nothing else existed for Tony, nothing but this entire universe of maths and science and ingenuity in which Loki could never step in. 

And yet, he did not care. 

So long as Tony was happy, what mattered the cause of his joy? 

So long as he could continue to supply it to his love, Loki would be content with anything. His heart wrenched at the thought of how long his packmate must have been kept from his passion due to something as ridiculous as his gender, how much he must have hidden himself in order to learn, to practise. 

That would not happen again. 

After seeing Tony so free, so carefree and enthused, Loki would never let anything or anyone keep him away from what he loved again. 

Loki was in love. 

It didn’t feel real. 

He’d waited centuries before choosing a mate, refusing to even consider the possibility of entertaining the pretty ladies fluttering around him back when he was still a prince, and too isolated to contemplate committing since he’d left the nines and dedicated himself to Yggdrasil. 

What could  _ love _ change? 

He would not force anything on the boy,  _ could not _ disturb their now peaceful status quo. 

The only thing he would do was wait. 

Wait and enjoy those fleeting moments they shared together, and until Tony became well enough to want to leave, and armed enough, strong enough to brave and conquer the world. Loki would wait, he would watch and feel proud. 

And then he would move on, left discarded and obsolete once again. 

He did not mind, so long as it meant Tony’s happiness.  _ This _ packmate had never used then forsaken him, had never tried to dispose of him when he became inconvenient, and Loki was rather certain that he never would. 

But such brilliance, such skill and ingenuity deserved recognition, such enthusiasm and thirst for life needed to be quenched. Loki had no desire to keep such a magnificent bird caged, only to let him heal in peace and ensure it could be in a place where he would thrive. 

And if that meant turning a blind eye to his heart shattering to pieces, then so it would be. 

He would move on. 

He’d already done so once, after all. 


	13. Chapter 13

Life was good. 

Tony did not trust it. 

Of course he knew better than to believe in superstitions, he knew about self fulfilling prophecies, after all. And yet. 

He did trust Loki. 

In fact, after Tony had distractedly addressed him as his ‘faithful minion’ and ordered him around his— _ his!— _ new lab, and the alpha had dutifully handed him every tool he’d asked for while in his engineering binge, and then proceeded to teasingly call him ‘my lord’ for the rest of the day, Tony knew there weren’t many lines that Loki would not let him cross. 

In fact, he rather wagered that Loki actually  _ enjoyed it _ whenever Tony let himself be snarky, with a particular relish on gentle sassiness. 

It was as novel as it was comfortable, and Tony found himself gradually becoming addicted to the feeling, to the sheer playfulness that he could now afford to express. 

Games of wit and plays on words, with no stakes but laughter. 

Tony wished this could last forever. 

In fact, he did find himself wishing for a ‘forever’. Which was ridiculous. 

He wasn’t in love. 

He knew better than to believe in love anyway. He’d heard all the warnings, and it had been many years since he could hear a tale of the ‘One True Love’ without feeling his hackles rise at the blatant manipulations, at the  _ lies _ spewed out in order to keep people confined to their gender roles and, if not happy with their lot, at least idolizing a pattern of abuse sufficiently similar to their lives to pretend at contentment. 

Tony hated it. Hated how much that very conditioning had still managed to tint his expectations, his wishes, to the point he hardly knew which dream came from his own nature and which was simply propaganda force-fed to him during his formative years. 

No. Tony did not believe in love. 

In fact, there were many things he did not believe in. 

Trust, comfort, happiness,  _ safety.  _

And yet,  _ and yet.  _

Loki had offered all of those things to him, along with a home that actually  _ felt like one, _ and a companionship that felt like  _ pack. _

And he had done that with barely a thought, as though it was only natural, the easiest thing in the world. 

But Tony didn’t believe in love, did not even believe himself capable of loving, even though he’d yearned for that feeling he’d only read about, dreamed about such intimacy and closeness. 

Until recently, he’d have found it impossible to reach, no more than a pipe dream. 

And yet, he could not deny that Loki had become close to him. That he’d shared with him things that he had never dared speaking about with anyone, not even Emma, his warrior Queen who would have taken the whole world by storm and burned the Academy to ashes had there been the opportunity. 

Loki would do the same, if given the chance. Tony did not know  _ how _ he knew, but there was no doubt about it. 

But Loki had not been there, did not carry such rage in his heart, such fear and desire for revenge. His rage was Tony’s, was there on his behalf, a wrath beyond belief that somehow never made Tony feel threatened in the slightest. 

_ Trust. _

Tony had not believed himself capable of trusting anyone beyond Emma. Even less so an alpha. 

After all, he’d spent so much of his life trying to please one, trying to reach those exacting, impossible standards, all the while _knowing_ how useless it was, but refusing to believe, to _recognize_ the futility of his efforts. 

Because Tony never could be something that would make his father proud, no matter what he did. 

He was not and never could be an alpha. 

So  _ trust _ was already so much more than he could wrap his head around. 

Trust offered and given both, returned and strengthened, until even  _ looking _ at Loki made him feel warm and safe. Until waking in Loki’s arms felt less of a biological imperative to rest in close quarters with members of his pack and more a reason to see his alpha  _ smile _ and to be able to smile back, to feel cared for and appreciated. 

Trust that he would never feel trapped or pressured while residing with Loki. That Loki would never ask him to be anything but  _ who _ he was and not just  _ what. _

It was novel, liberating,  _ wondrous. _

He felt playful and free. 

_ Happy. _

And he wanted to make Loki happy in turn, out of sheer gratitude and affection. 

_ ‘Oh.’  _

He… 

He was in love with Loki. 

… 

_ Fuck.  _

That had  _ not _ been expected. 


	14. Chapter 14

Tony had taken to watching Loki. 

After his untimely realization, he started being more careful about what he wanted and felt, refusing to find himself quite so unaware again. 

However, Tony rather feared it was quite a bit late for that. 

Feeling had taken root and he knew better than to pretend it had not happened. 

He could only move forward. 

He started noticing more and more clues that hinted at his infatuation. Behaviors, habits, needs. Trains of thoughts. 

The way he always looked for Loki, for instance, seeking him whenever he could, staying close. 

He’d thought it was his way of looking out for threats, of making sure not to be taken by surprise, but if he were honest with himself, he would admit that he hadn’t seen Loki as a threat in a very long time, if he ever truly had beyond that very first night meeting with the alpha. 

Even then if he were warily keeping an eye on him, would he truly seek his touch? Would he want Loki to watch him, to  _ want _ him? 

This was new territory for Tony. He’d never been in love, never planned on ever letting himself fall down the very trap that had made Emma fall so low. 

And yet, as he was bumping shoulders with his wolfman, teasing him for having burned the meal, it felt like the most natural thing in the world. 

It was playful, carefree, and yet now that Tony knew, he found himself feeling all tingly inside, delicious shivers of anticipation coursing through him as he cuddled close to his wolfman’s chest, a soft blush warming his cheeks when he watched a shirtless Loki moving about their den. 

He didn’t know whether to decry or be thankful of his past self for having panicked enough that his alpha had started to wear pants. Certainly it was easier on his self control. Even clothed, that backside looked tantalizingly firm and defined, the play of muscles under the skin absolutely mesmerizing. 

More than once, Tony had to forcefully tear his eyes away from the strong expanse of Loki’s bare back, from the firm roundness of his ass, the well defined angle of his jaw, the sheer intensity of his gaze. 

Tony was rather smitten. 

It was a wonder Loki had not caught on to his play yet. Though, Tony would wager he knew already, and was simply too careful to let it show. He could distinctly remember the man’s smug smirk when he’d caught him  _ looking,  _ back when he’d first shifted to a bipedal form. 

Not human, no. Never human. Tony had realized that too, with some strange degree of comfort. 

Regardless, no matter how much Tony watched him, no matter how much he  _ touched  _ him, Loki never actually  _ did _ anything about it. 

He was always careful with his hands, with the way he moved, taking care not to make any advances, not to do anything that could be interpreted as a flirt, as an overture. 

It was too careful not to be deliberate. 

Tony wasn’t an idiot. 

He knew he was traumatized, was terrified of being left alone in the same room as an alpha, probably had something psych books called PTSD. He’d talked about it with Emma the one time he’d frozen up and almost hyperventilated when the beta warden had left him alone with Ty. 

It was better to be aware of one’s own weakness than to be owned by them. 

Loki was too observant not to have noticed. 

How ironic that the first alpha that Tony decided to want was one too gentlemanly to ever decide to make a move of his own volition. 

Though, perhaps it wasn’t too surprising, all things considered.

Somehow, he wasn’t overly disappointed. Instead, it felt like a  _ challenge, _ an unspoken game between them both where Tony teases and preened and hinted at, while Loki remained stoic, seemingly unaffected except sometimes for heavier breaths and dilated pupils. 

It was playful, a dance with fire knowing that he would never get burned even as he remained fascinated by the blaze. Perhaps he  _ wanted _ to get kissed by those flames. Wanted to be seared, consumed. 

The more Tony teased, the more he fell down his own trap, wanting, wishing,  _ needing.  _

Loki’s iron control never wavered, and yet Tony kept pushing, kept  _ playing. _

He knew Loki would start nothing until Tony instigated it, he’d been clear enough. 

And apparently said instigation needed to imply verbally asking for what he wanted, because Tony had already gone through any non-vebal seduction he could think of with no result. 

He had learned many tricks at Emma’s knee, how to seduce, how to ensnare, how to twist heads around and wrap horny old men around his dainty fingers. 

Those were all skills he’d hoped to never need to make use of, a science of conquest and eroticism he’d vowed to only ever keep as a last resort, that Emma had only ever taught him with a somber voice and a hidden tremor in her voice, knowing that to trade his body for his life was one of the hardest choices one could make. 

Knowing that she never wished for him to need to make the choices she was driven to. 

And yet, this was not the case now, even as he found himself unearthing those old lessons, dusting off those memories with a sort of eager trepidation, battling between shyness and anticipation as he pulled on all the stops in order to make his alpha  _ react _ somehow, to make him…

Tony was not quite certain what he’d been hoping for, while planning out and even  _ enacting _ his attempts at seduction, but nothing ever seemed to shake Loki’s composure, not even the most daring of teases, the most alluring poses, the most suggestive touches. 

Tony had certainly taken to teasing his packmate as much as was humanly possible, not only through his actions but also through the clothing he was wearing—either Loki’s own or his favorites—, the way he smelled—cultivating the delicious mixture of both their scents along with some fragrant flowers he’d woven through his hair—and even the way he talked.

There was nothing outrageous, nothing that ever seemed out of the ordinary or unnatural. However, he did ensure to pay much attention to Loki’s own words, heaping gentle but honest praise and flattery upon him and relishing the faint blush he sometimes managed to obtain. He subtly offered up some discreet innuendos, just to see if the alpha’s mind latched onto those ideas offered up for his perusal. 

He even tried to accentuate some of his more non verbal noises and gestures, exaggerating moans and hums, looking back at his alpha from beneath dark lashes and the way he moved his mouth around various foodstuffs. 

And yet. 

Nothing. 

It was commendable, in a way. 

It was clear enough to Tony that Loki was interested enough. The way his pupils dilated, the way he always leaned ever so slightly in his touch whenever Tony not-so-accidentally brushed against him, the way he actually blushed, or smiled or held him close in his arms. 

Tony loved the game as much as it frustrated him.

Eating his food in more than suggestive manners, moaning or humming with exaggerated pleasure… 

Wearing his wolfman’s shirt, one of the very few that he had worn at least once, Tony pressed close to Loki, winding around him like a feline… 

Plopping down on the alpha’s lap and slowly, almost absentmindedly caressing his bare chest, skimming his soft skin, pressing his nose into his neck… 

Loki never stopped him, never recoiled, even moved forward into his touch, no matter how much Tony escalated. When Tony asked if Loki was comfortable, or if he should leave, Loki was always quick to make him stay, to keep Tony as close as he’d gotten. 

And yet, he never pushed further either. He never laid even a finger on him in return, never grasped him in a possessive hold, or growled with desire as Tony had seen some knotheads do. 

So Tony got even bolder, even more  _ daring. _

He knew what he wanted. It had taken a while for him to admit to it, taken even longer for him to get a plan of attack and then the nerve needed to see it through, but. 

He was Tony Stark, pupil of Emma Frost. 

He would never let such a ridiculous thing as nerves stop him. 

Though he did stand to lose quite a lot if his advances were not welcome, he trusted Loki not to hurt him. He trusted him not to send him back to Howard’s. To Ty’s. 

And, at this point, his intent was certainly explicit enough that, had Loki not been receptive, he would have been asked to stop quite a while before. 

It was a slow process, Tony slowly growing bolder in his seduction, and Loki, looking amused yet composed, offering himself up for Tony’s explorations. 

But Tony had never really been known for his patience. 

His blood ran hot, desire fanned with each touch Loki allowed, each time he found himself pressed close to his alpha, rocking himself on his lap, mouthing at his throat, nibbling on an earlobe or a nipple. 

And, gradually, with more boundaries that Tony laid to waste between them; Loki tentatively started reciprocating. Slowly, gently,  _ sensually _ laying down soft caresses against the delicate skin bared by Loki’s own tunic, pressing light kisses to the spot under his jaw, humming Tony’s name into his neck...

He never went any further than what Tony initiated himself, never crossed a boundary that Tony had not let down beforehand, checking, slowing down, letting Tony be the one to come first, to make the first move, to set the pace. 

Tony rather felt like he was being tamed, a fox-kit being befriended by a little prince who fell from a star. 

It was an amusing comparison when one thought of the way Loki himself turned into a big hulking beast. 

But then, all things considered, perhaps it wasn’t  _ that _ inaccurate. Emma was nothing less than a fox, savage and passionate as a creature living in the arctic’s wilderness. And  _ he _ had indeed been raised as her cub, mischievous and feral, and always,  _ always  _ untrusting, wary of any hand reached out, leery of any supposedly ‘kind’ word thrown his way. 

With good reason. 

And yet. 

And yet, he found himself almost  _ domesticated _ these days, trutingly looking to his alpha, seeking him, his warmth, his kindness, his caresses. 

Almost docile. 

But not quite. 

The way he let his hands wander ever lower was certainly not  _ tame, _ nor was it  _ meek. _

No, Tony was still just as wild as ever, only he’d chosen a new outlet for his chaotic nature. 

He  _ would _ drive Loki to his wit’s end. 

Touching, stoking, teasing until he could sense his wolfman hardening against him, only to leave with a tease and a wink, winding him up and letting him go, again and again, just to see how he would react, if he would snap, if he would  _ ask. _

But he never did. 

No, Loki only watched him back, eyes narrowed with mirth and a teasing glint that told him he knew _ exactly  _ what Tony was doing. 

Tony would not be surprised, after all he wasn’t really being subtle anymore. If he had ever really been. 

He wanted  _ everything,  _ his alpha’s respect and affection, his care, his attention, even his love if that was possible. 

He had the feeling he had all of that already. 

But he’d always been greedy, even for things he could not or should not have. He did not care, it never stopped him from  _ wanting,  _ and for  _ striving. _

He wanted  _ more. _

He wanted Loki’s  _ cock, _ his bite, his  _ bond.  _

He  _ would _ have Loki because Loki offered himself and wanted him back. 

But he always stopped himself. 

Loki had always been excessively clear when he’d said he would never do anything until Tony himself started it, until he expressed his own wants clearly. 

Tony knew that, had tested it, tried out Loki’s own will through his relentless teasing and his shameless flirting, nothing would move his wolf short of an explicitly worded invitation. 

But he couldn’t bring himself to speak it out yet. 

He loved Loki. He knew that. He wanted him. 

But did he  _ need him?  _

He knew he was dependent on him. 

For the moment at least, though with the inventions he was creating, he might be able to move through the world under an alias and with some scent blockers. However, the world was less than kind to lone omegas trying to make it into the world. Should he be found out, ending up in a brothel would be the kindest fate he could find. 

Loki offered him protection and safety, and perhaps that  _ did  _ influence Tony’s own desires. But was it truly so strange that he would be attracted to kindness and safety? Was trust not a form of love as well?

Love… 

Perhaps love was not the passionate rush one found in the stories. 

Perhaps it was instead the small glitter of warmth in his heart whenever he saw his wolf. 

The rush of playfulness when Loki wore his wolfskin, the deep burning desire when he wore his human-but-god skin. 

The feel of  _ home _ whenever he smelled him. The sheer happiness when he was in his arms. 

The exhilarating feeling of freedom he could feel in his lab, even when Loki was right next to him, watching or reading or even  _ helping. _

_ Feelings _ were complicated. 

‘Sentiment’, Emma used to say, with such a bittersweet smile on her lips. 

But Loki did not do any of these things to obtain something from him. Tony knew that, he’d been careful, played the long game, suspicious and watchful of each of Loki’s moves. 

Tony was rather convinced that even if he decided to never have sex with Loki, he would not be treated any differently. —Though he might be asked to stop with his teasing at some point down the line. It would be rather cruel of him to keep at it anyway. —

He trusted Loki. He  _ wanted  _ him. 

Perhaps, he thought as he caressed his alpha’s cheek, perhaps there was nothing else that truly mattered. 

And as he bent down to lay a kiss upon those lips, soft as a butterfly’s wing, he decided there was no reason to keep playing. 

The game had become boring, anyway. Best to shake up those rules a little. 

“Make me  _ yours,  _ Loki.” 


	15. Chapter 15

“Make me  _ yours,  _ Loki.” 

Loki blinked, eyes wide with surprise and dark with desire. 

Tony licked his lips, throat suddenly very dry as he let his folded tunic slide off his shoulders, baring creamy skin to his alpha’s hungry gaze. 

He watched carefully the way Loki’s eyes followed the path of the cloth, drinking him in. 

He looked enraptured. 

Tony allowed himself a smirk. 

He slipped his hands around Loki’s neck, carding his fingers through the silky dark hair, settling himself comfortably on the alpha’s lap. 

He felt brazen, but also wild, unstoppable. 

It felt good. 

Power was heady, he could feel it coursing through his veins like molten lava, thick, syrupy and oh so very delicious. 

Here Loki was, in his hands, trusting, hopeful, but ultimately helpless. 

But it was a power that was  _ offered _ to him, Tony was entrusted with Loki’s next move, his agency. 

It was enough to make his head spin. 

The magnitude of the role reversal, the alienness of the very concept of what he was doing… 

Loki  _ trusted him.  _

And Tony…

Tony smiled at the hesitation in Loki’s eyes, the cautious blend of hope and desire, the  _ respect.  _

He hadn’t expected anything less, not for a single second had he worried that Loki would try to  _ take _ what was not offered, nor had he thought that he would take Tony’s desire as a reason to scorn him. 

He licked his lips, dry with both desire and nerves. 

It was time to admit aloud something that he’d known for a while now. 

“I trust you. I want you. Make me yours.” 

Loki’s eyes widened at those words, something soft and awed in his gaze as he looked at him. 

Suddenly, Tony felt bad. All this time that he’d been growing more comfortable around Loki, and yet he hadn’t said anything, letting the alpha think… whatever it was. 

Tony didn’t really deserve that look, not for something as small as trust. Not when he was already in love, though the words did not want to come out. 

Though, perhaps trust was even more momentous than love. He knew love, crushes, even attraction. He’d heard of them, learned to guard his heart against them. And yes, the feeling was new, something he didn’t think himself capable of, even as he’d longed for such intimacy, for the butterflies and fireworks that had been sung about in stories. 

_ Love. _

He didn’t think he’d have been able to think of Loki that way if not for that trust. Didn’t think his body could ever react like that, with fizzling desire and toe curling anticipation, with that warm rush of affection and longing. 

Had Emma trusted her betrayer? Had it been so important that their relationship needed to be forged through months of slow courtship, deepening friendship and understanding? 

Perhaps not. Love was supposed to be a swift-footed thing, dazzling in brilliance and blinding adrenaline. 

Perhaps what he had was not even truly  _ love  _ at all. 

Tony cared not. It was his own feelings and they were whatever he chose to call them. To him it felt like ‘love’. It was the closest he could have. 

But perhaps it meant ‘trust’ instead. 

Yes. Perhaps  _ trust _ was indeed the most important confession he could make on this day. 

Loki certainly seemed to think so. 

Still, Tony had not expected to see such a vulnerable expression on his wolfman’s face, something utterly raw and yearning. 

He didn’t quite know what to make of it. 

Certainly it did not change what he thought of Loki, though the strange suffusing warmth in his belly painted quite a different picture entirely. 

So. Perhaps he _did_ care, and perhaps he even cared a bit _too much._

Making Loki happy… It felt good. 

Tony smiled, perhaps a bit too softly to keep his feelings hidden. But then, it did appear as though his wolf’s too sharp gaze was currently too distracted to point out his slip. 

Brows furrowed over a troubled green gaze while Loki hesitated before wetting his lips, eyes sharpening once more on Tony’s baffled face. 

“I… In the interest of full disclosure… I must inform you that... I’m... in love with you.” 

It had to be the least romantic confession in all of the history of romance. 

It was ridiculous, overly dramatic and almost impersonal in its seriousness. 

There was no expectation of reciprocity, no aim for an amorous mood, in fact it felt more like a warning than an encouragement. 

It was perfect. 

Tony raised his brows, standing from Loki’s lap as he held his gaze just as seriously. 

And then he started undressing. 

Slowly, garment by garment, slipping out of Loki’s too large tunic and squirming out of his pants, never breaking eye contact. 

He drank in the nervousness and the incredulity, the awe and the lust, the hope and the desire. Each tiny reaction laid bare and open before his gaze, even as he bared his own body in turn. 

It made him feel even more powerful, even more  _ brazen. _

Each time self-consciousness would have had him curl inward to hide, the need reflected in those darkening green eyes, the intensity of that wolfish gaze, the  _ hunger _ made him shed those doubts, flaunt himself as though he was a masterpiece offered to the eyes of a true connoisseur. 

Or rather the most delicious buffet served to a starving man. 

He smirked, swaying his hips as he came back to Loki, clad in naught but the leather cuffs, his wolf’s very first gift, seductively draping his arms around Loki’s neck and bringing their faces close again. 

Their lips almost brushed, warm air dampening skin as they breathed each other in, eyes locked, spellbound, even as silence stretched between them. 

Loki was waiting.  _ Still. _

Tony almost chuckled, briefly wondering if his alpha would accept a verbal command or if he would require a written invitation, dated and signed for the sake of authenticity. 

“You love me? How  _ lucky.  _ Positively fortuitous.” 

He pecked those inviting lips, smirking against them, eyes half lidded as he let loose that low laugh building inside his chest. 

“Because I want you. I need you in my life, as my alpha, as my partner.” 

Trailing his lips down Loki’s neck, catching sight of green eyes round with surprise before burying his face in the lovely neck before him, nuzzling and nibbling the delicate skin under his future lover’s ear. 

“I want your  _ bite _ and your  _ knot.”  _

Tony smirked as he let his teeth press a bit  _ harder _ on the unmarked skin, threatening something that was more that taboo where he came from. He did not think his wolf would object, going from Loki’s needy whine and trembling form. 

“I want your _cock_ _inside of me.”_

Punctuating his last few words with aggressive rolls of his hips certainly was not the most dignified nor the most elegant of incentives, but it was at the very least  _ effective.  _

Loki’s hands settle on his hips, grip tight and possessive, just enough for Tony to shiver in delight and press himself even closer. 

“Look at me.”

The command takes Tony by surprise. Loki almost never uses those, not against him. 

It should infuriate him, or perhaps terrify him, but it only makes him feel more  _ hot _ as his body feels compelled to answer. 

But then, his mind is not struggling against the demand, instead allowing it as though one of its own making. Should he have wanted to refuse, he had the feeling that he easily could have. 

And that made all the difference. 

Their gazes locked once more, green worry clashing with golden seduction, hesitation being met with unshakeable assurance. 

“Are you certain? Is this not just lust talking? Bonds are forever for my kind. They mean tying the string of your fate with mine, that means never being parted, neither in this life nor the next. One thread, one shared fate, for all of time.” 

But Tony knew that. He’d known for a long time, through their many shared stories and the questions he’d started drilling Loki with as soon as he’d started feeling comfortable around him. 

He’d made his decision a long time before. 

And there was no being on the planet more stubborn than Tony Stark, and no matter what his father had said or what the world thought, him being an omega only made him  _ more stubborn.  _

“Loki,  _ I love you.” _

Tony watched with a strange blend of apprehension and gleeful triumph as Loki reared back in shock, lips half parted in awe and wonder, hand trembling against Tony’s hips.

He had certainly taken the wolf by surprise by saying as much. And he’d given the other one quite a bit of power over him in the process. Granted, Loki had confessed as well, but alphas could lie. Troy had done just that with Emma after all. 

Tony did not truly believe Loki would turn out like that, but nevertheless, it was always possible. He was certainly clever and patient enough to be able to play the long game, and Tony was aware enough that the lack of external human contact was making him rather biased. 

But then, so were his past experiences and the often life-saving habit of expecting the worst. 

Soon the moment of truth would come. 

After all, if Loki’s kindness was a trick, it would all end after emptying his balls. 

It would hurt. But at least he’d know. Either way, he’d  _ know. _

But then. 

Tony already knew. 

There was no doubt in his mind that Loki was genuine in his affections. There was no fear, no suspicion in his heart. Only  _ trust _ and a quiet certainty. 

So when Loki’s hold grew bruising, when he simply scooped Tony up as he stood and then laid him down on their bedding, when he hovered over him, green eyes piercing as he asked one last time, with a voice like gravel as he asked one more time if Tony was  _ really sure,  _ if this was really what he wanted, there was no doubt left in Tony’s mind. 

But he already was beyond being asked, beyond words and patience. Desire was pulsing through his veins like the headiest of drugs, blurring his mind and sharpening his senses.

Clawing at Loki’s back, at his hips, holding onto his alpha’s neck as he gasped, already breathless. 

He was laughing, exhilarated and love-drunk, with triumph at having  _ finally  _ gotten Loki’s control to snap, at having been literally  _ swept off his feet, _ with humor at being asked again something so ridiculous when Tony had already laid out his wishes as clearly as one could without actually drawing a diagram, and with affection at the care in Loki’s actions. 

It was enough to have his head spin. 

He didn’t know when he’d gotten horizontal, when Loki had gotten them to bed, but he didn’t care anymore. 

He kissed him, with abandon, with joy. Pouring the last hints of trepidation in the act, the nervousness of trying something new and the encompassing desire to finally have Loki’s hands on him, his lips, his kisses, skin against skin in a way that was so very different from the cuddling they previously shared. 

Goosebumps followed the trail of Loki’s fingers, Tony’s breath catching as his skin tingled, his belly clenching with arousal, his cock starting to throb with rising hardness. 

He might have felt embarrassed at his responsiveness if not for how obviously Loki was being affected in turn. How wild he was appearing. 

It was the first time Loki showed a hint of physical wolfishness while in human form. 

Teeth lengthening, hair growing untamed on his head, camouflaging the shift of ears from human to wolf. Something soft, caressing and curling around Tony’s leg makes him look down at Loki’s tail... and at Loki’s dick that seemed incredibly bigger than he remembered. 

Whether that was because he was actually about to  _ have that inside of him _ or if it  _ actually was _ bigger remained to be seen. However not even curiosity could truly detract him from his bout of nerves. 

Loki’s teeth worrying his neck were a very pleasant distraction. 

Tony could not quite contain the whine that escaped his lips, nor the way he arched his back, baring his neck for more of Loki’s ministrations. 

His alpha smirked against the sensitive skin of his neck, before slowly moving down his chest, exploring, teasing, nibbling along those spots that they’d previously discovered during the days Tony had teased him and let himself be teased in turn. 

Loki remembered each and every one of them, the bastard. 

He nipped at Tony’s sensitive nipples, before leaving them cold, sharp nails—claws? Oh, claws, nice—scratching gently along his ribs even as Loki went lower, ever so slowly worshipping the expanse of Tony’s skin. 

Tony felt entirely subjugated, swept away by the sensations, the feelings coursing through him. 

He was already squirming in place, unable to catch his breath, to think, to  _ take back the reins,  _ because, damnit, it was  _ his _ initiative, his ‘operation seduction’ that Loki was highjacking, and yet he could only lay there, helpless,  _ wrecked _ with barely a touch. 

Loki did not even have to touch his cock, or even his ass, for him to be entirely overwhelmed. 

Bastard

And then Loki did something with his claws, scratching at the back of his neck and Tony forgot all his complaints, his gasps turning to moans and his arms desperately clawing at Loki’s back. 

He could feel Loki chuckling against his chest, but he felt so good he couldn’t begrudge him his smuggness. 

He’d get him back though. 

Later. 

Much later. 

He whined, pulling at his alpha’s hair, trying to direct him, to gain back  _ some _ measure of control. He wanted to talk, to snark, to do anything that could make Loki yield  _ some _ of the power, but he could barely manage a choked groan as he struggled for composure. 

But Loki wouldn’t have it. 

He bit down on a nipple and grasped Tony’s cock just as he dragged his claws once more along the back of his neck. 

He’d apparently found Tony’s achilles heel and it seemed that he would not hesitate to make good use of it. 

Tony’s back bowed into Loki’s grasp, panting in time with the movements of Loki’s hands, squirming and trembling as his lover jerked him off slowly, mercilessly. 

Tony did not last long, he came with a shout, helpless, his nails scratching red welts against Loki’s back as every muscle pulled taut, oblivion teasing at his senses for a moment before he slumped back down, exhausted. 

Laying back limply against the bed of furs, he blinked as he tried to make sense of what just happened. 

He felt sticky, breathless. Disoriented. 

He glared up at his alpha accusingly.

“You did that on purpose!”

Loki offered him a wide grin and didn’t deny anything. 

It was as good as an admission of guilt as he would get, and Loki would  _ definitely  _ pay for that, but at the moment Tony felt too relaxed and boneless to hold onto his grudge

Loki took advantage of his plight to move down his body and settle himself between his legs.

If Tony felt less exhausted and blissed out, he would admire the deviousness of putting him in that state. 

With such warm and fuzzy feelings floating through him, his mind syrupy soft with sated bliss, it was pretty hard for him to feel mortified at having someone inspecting his privates so closely, or at having his legs spread open with his asshole on display in such a lewd way. 

Tony raised himself up on his forearms while Loki caressed his inner thighs, looking straight into his eyes. 

One hand came up to his groin, just softly moving around, offering no pressure at all, just contact. 

Tony let his head fall backwards with a groan of frustration. He felt his hormones working overdrive, making him horny again, making his limp cock twitch at each of Loki’s careful measured movements. 

It was torture.

Loki moved his fingers down, slowly, so slowly, slipping it under his balls, over his perineum. He started circling his hole, gently, tentatively. 

Tony decided it felt weird but good. He was already plenty wet from his first orgasm, but certainly not loose enough to take something inside. 

_ Norns,  _ if not even a fingertip fit in, how would that monster between his alpha’s legs?

The small ring of muscle was tight but it had some give. Loki played around it for a while, strumming it with his fingertip, making Tony gasp and squirm, circling it, then scratching it softly.

Tony’s back bowed as he held his breath, before slumping back down when it seemed as though Loki was giving him some respite. Just a minute, just long enough to catch his breath. 

He was panting, cock already half hard once more, and his hole felt decidedly wet against Loki’s fingers. 

Green eyes caught his, intense, fiendishly amused, teasing. 

Perhaps this  _ was _ payback already, for all the times Tony had played with Loki’s libido, winding him up with something he would not allow himself to take. 

It certainly seemed as though he was enjoying himself at least, that smug smirk on his lips as he slowly bent down, holding Tony’s gaze all the while as he blew softly on his wet ring. 

Tony sprung up with a gasp as the cold wind sizzled through his nerves. His cock throbbed, dribbles of precum spurting up even as drying cum still adorned his belly. 

It was  _ too soon _ but Loki didn’t look as though he cared about that, didn’t seem to see a problem with having Tony at his mercy. Trembling like a leaf, aching with need and embarrassment, squirming in his grasp and unable to decide whether he wanted  _ more,  _ or if he should ask him to stop, to wait, at least. 

But Tony was not complaining, no, not at all. 

He’d never felt more alive. 

He was unable to tear his eyes away from Loki’s, from that handsome face framed by his own thighs, from his own half hard cock and sticky skin. 

He felt entirely  _ debauched,  _ and yet he couldn’t muster up anything beyond the  _ want for more.  _

Loki smirked at his reaction, something knowing and wicked in his eyes, and Tony felt  _ caught out.  _

Summoning some semblance of dignity, Tony sent him a dirty look, but Loki had finally started putting his fingers to good use, pressing down on Tony’s needy rim, pushing in the very tip of a finger before retreating, and thrusting in again. 

Tony closed his eyes with bliss, all but forgetting about Loki’s infuriating smugness. At this point, he rather deserved the self-satisfaction anyway. 

Loki’s other hand was still moving up and down his inner thigh with a steady rhythm, and the touch was surprisingly grounding. 

Tony settled back back down on the bedding as Loki started circling his hole more insistently. He sank into the sensations, the tightness and the vibrations of the fingers hooking then letting go of his rim, Loki’s hand on his thigh, his fingers massaging his hole, his hole twitching back closed each time, but each time a little slower, a little softer. 

Tony relaxed under Loki’s smooth ministrations, letting himself be carried away by his steady rhythm, his warmth and his scent, a heady perfume that ensnared his senses. It was almost hypnotic. 

He felt himself go boneless, and didn’t even notice the first or the second finger breaching him. 

He  _ did,  _ however, when Loki’s steady, grounding hand on his thigh turned to playful claws scraping,  _ teasing _ along the very sensitive skin at the base of his leg.

While not unpleasant, it was certainly jarring, and Tony jerked up gasping. Suddenly there was pressure inside, moving around, stretching,  _ burning.  _

Loki looked at him with one eyebrow raised, his mouth quirked up. 

“Do pay attention, my dear.”

Tony would answer him with something biting, if only he managed to do something as simple as catching his breath. 

Loki’s hand in the crook of his thigh had turned into an absolute torment, scratching and soothing and pinching and rubbing, and just slightly but not quite brushing against his cock, and _when_ _had he gotten hard again?_

Loki’s other hand was half inside him. 

He could feel it, feel Loki’s thumb playing around the rim, and  _ that _ was already an overwhelming feeling on its own, but there were also fingers rubbing his inner walls, curling up and stretching him, caressing,  _ searing  _ him. 

It was wrecking him. 

_ How _ was he so sensitive  _ inside _ his body? 

There was a wet suction noise as his slick started gushing out of him, easing the way for Loki’s too clever finger and readying him for a cock and... 

Just the  _ thought _ of it was both mortifying and arousing. His own cock twitched again, throbbing, aching,  _ needy,  _ and he could see his tip was shiny with dribbling precum.

And then Loki found what he’d been looking for. 

With a single press of fingers, Tony’s mind whited out, his hips jerked up with a shout as pleasure sparked his nerves, like lightning coursing through his body. 

Gasping, with his toes curled up and his hands fisted in the covers, he twitched, whining, struggling, trying to get that feeling back. 

He heard a low chuckle, and remembered Loki was there, and  _ Loki _ was the one who had found that spot, and he definitely  _ should _ be looking for it again.

And he  _ would, _ or Tony would  _ make him.  _

As soon as he remembered how to move. 

Hooking trembling legs behind Loki’s back, Tony pulled him close, hands desperately clutching at his shoulders. 

Loki allowed it, huffing amusedly as he moved obligingly along with Tony’s hold, pulling him close and bringing their faces close. 

But he had removed his oh so nice fingers in the process and Tony whined in protest at the loss. 

_ That wasn’t what he wanted at all!  _

But Loki didn’t seem to understand what the nonverbal protest meant, or perhaps he only pretended not to, but words were quite beyond Tony’s ability at the moment so he could only cling and shudder at the emptiness inside of him, at the ache of his cock, the ghosts of pleasure still skittering through his skin. 

Warm puff of air dampened Tony’s ear as Loki started nibbling on his lobe. It felt close, intimate, skin against skin, breath against breath, Loki’s dark hair a curtain cutting them away from the world. 

“Are you okay?”

Tony shuddered. He felt like he was burning up, like every inch of his skin was too sensitive, like he was breaking apart, shattering under the sheer affection, the closeness. 

He was laid bare in a way that went deeper than simple nakedness. 

He whined, arching up into Loki’s touch.

He needed more. 

“Eager, are we?” 

The words were breathed right into his ear, warm with mirth, but he couldn’t make sense of them. Everything was too loud, too close, and yet not close enough. 

He felt empty,  _ achingly  _ so. His mind was syrupy, hazy with need and lust. 

He could feel the hand on his leg manhandling him, pushing his legs apart to make room for hips that slotted against his. Some deep primal part of him purred at the casual show of strength, at his helplessness against his alpha’s power, a thrill of adrenaline that only made his arousal soar higher. 

“Are you still sure? Is this really what you want?” 

The words penetrated the thick fog inside his mind. 

Loki worried too much, but Tony couldn’t help but feel grateful anyway, because each of those little check-ins, each of these questions only made Tony feel more safe, more cherished. 

Consent, checking, important. 

Trust. Loki. Mate. 

_ “Yes.”  _

His mind was clouded by need and desire, arousal driving him into incoherence. He had become pure sensations, a raw nerve, right on the edge of becoming a supernova and dissolving into the ether. 

Tony hoped his answer made it through anyway. 

And it must have, because he soon felt a hand supporting his ass and another between his legs pushing something against his hole. 

Loki was breathing hard above him, holding himself taut with restraint, beads of sweat slowly pearling down his brow. 

And then Loki started pushing in.

_ Oh.  _

Tony’s eyes clenched shut as he felt Loki’s dick slowly stretching his entrance. It burned. It was big, huge,  _ too much, _ way more than the fingers had been. 

He gasped, out, choking. He couldn’t get his breath back, couldn’t open his lungs enough. He felt like he was speared open, and it kept moving forward, but  _ there was no room, no way it could get in, no air!  _

Loki’s breath was ragged as he held himself still above him, strong limbs trembling, teeth gritted, eyes glowing green as though the sun was shining through them. 

A drop of sweat fell from his brow, splashing on the tip of Tony’s nose. 

Strangely, it reassured him. 

Seeing Loki struggle that much, holding himself back for Tony’s comfort, for his pleasure, it soothed the vice crushing his ribs and let Tony heave in a breath, then another, until he found himself gradually relaxing. The burn became an afterthought as he started feeling the rest of his body again.

His legs, aching deliciously with how wide they were opened, stretching around Loki’s hips, his arms, tired from clinging onto Loki’s shoulders, his nipples, still raw from Loki’s earlier treatment. 

But also the stretching of his asshole, that was slowly starting to feel more than pleasant, the way his rim clenched around Loki’s girth and his own cock started twitching in response. 

And the restrained power in Loki’s body, his faint trembling as he did his best not to move, the slightest shake in the arm he used to hold himself up… 

That would not do. 

Tony clenched his thighs around Loki and pulled his hips up, bucking against him in invitation. 

The hand on his ass spasmed as Loki groaned, clearly surprised but going along with it. Loki’s hips started moving again, at a crawl, a steady but slow pace as he thrusted deeper inside him, spearing him on his cock. 

Tony groaned, greedy and aching, the burn consuming him, torn between gratefulness at the care shown and sheer  _ frustration _ as his arousal protested vehemently against the glacial pace. 

He wanted more, harder, faster, something primal inside him waking up to demand a rough  _ pounding,  _ a fucking so raw and wild that he would still be able to feel it by the next month. 

The head of Loki’s cock was inside him now and his rim wasn’t stretching any wider, he was  _ fine, _ he wanted  _ more, damnit! _

So Tony pulled himself up and buried his head to the crook of Loki’s neck, breathed in the smell of his alpha... 

And bit down.

Hard.

Loki snarled, hips jerking forward, ramming himself into him and crushing his mate close. 

Tony gasped, howling as he felt the entire length of Loki inside of him, searing him open like a brand. 

He couldn’t breathe again. It felt as though it went right through him, like he could feel it in his  _ throat, _ but that was just not possible was it? 

Too much,  _ too much.... _

And yet at the same time, absolutely  _ perfect.  _

And Loki started pulling out. 

Tony clawed at his back, gasping for air as he felt completely emptied out,  _ gutted,  _ holding on for dear life as he tried to—

Loki snapped his hips back in, Tony throwing his head back with a yelp as he felt himself stretched open again, his whole body shaking with Loki’s growls.

Tony lost track of time. 

Loki’s hips snapping hard against his, then pulling back tortuously slowly, each time tearing a cry from his throat, each time making him grip onto his mate, grinding and twitching against him.

And then Loki’s hips twisted up as he pulled his arm around Tony’s leg and folded him forward, pressing him back down into the bed, and the new angle made Tony see stars. 

His breath coming out through gasps interspersed with small moans, Tony twitching and jerking helplessly each time Loki hit  _ that spot.  _

Tension was climbing up and up, and everything felt  _ too much _ and  _ not enough.  _

Tony twisted, clawing at Loki as he desperately tried to get to his release, fighting a doomed battle against Loki’s relentless assault, against his uncompromising hold, until his struggles dimmed. Exhaustion weakened him as his body yielded to Loki’s plundering, until his grappling was turned to feeble shudders and pitiful keening. 

Bliss was wrecking him, throbbing through him like a poisonous pulse, torturing him with the ache of a denied arousal. 

With a sob of frustration, Tony shook and  _ broke,  _ pleading with his alpha to  _ please _ let him come, letting out a slow litany of incoherent begging.

Loki’s rhythm stuttered, becoming erratic at the sight, before he adjusted his grip, snarled and  _ pounded.  _

He bent his head down, breathing harshly against Tony’s neck, bending him down in half, and Tony loved it, loved it,  _ loved him, _ but it was just not enough, never quite enough—

Loki growled right in his ear, an overpowering command: 

_ “Come for me!”  _

And bit down right onto his bonding gland—

The world went white. 

***

There was no better feeling in the world than hearing your mate call out your name in bliss. 

Loki’s hips kept snapping forward; thrusting deep inside the welcoming warmth of his mate. His teeth were clamped down on Tony’s shoulder, the bite shallow enough not to wound but there would be a mark. 

_ His _ mark. 

The faint taste of blood hazed his senses, bloodlust mixing with flesh lust until frenzy overtook him. 

Tony’s hole was tight and wet around him, clenching around his cock in a most distracting way. His smell was dizzying,  _ heady,  _ arousal and sex, and the musk of a contented and fulfilled omega. It smelled like happiness and trust, it smelled like  _ his.  _

And, for the first time, Tony smelled like a  _ bonded _ omega, his own, his mate, his  _ bond.  _

It was enough to drive him  _ insane,  _ his legendary self control frayed to tatters as he  _ took, _ as he plundered the willing body under him, losing himself into the carnality of the act, in the closeness, the shared breaths, the glistening sweat, the desperate moans. 

He was close already. 

His hips stuttered as he felt his own release was nearing, his knot inflating, catching around his omega’s hole with each thrust, the squeeze a delicious torment. His movements became erratic, almost fumbling as he slammed back inside Tony, again and again, urged on by his mate’s small cries of pleasure. 

Sliding his hand between their bodies, he took hold of his omega’s hard cock, stroking him, jerking him off in time with his own thrusts. 

And with a particularly powerful thrust of his hips, he twisted his hand, rubbing hard against the head of his mate’s cock and bringing him over the edge in the process. 

Tony’s bliss wrecked him almost as much as his own, his howls of pleasure, the intoxicating scent of his sated and happy mate, the low rumble of his omegan purrs,  _ the way his hole squeezed him like a vice inside…  _

Loki could not hold out any longer. 

With one final snarl he rammed his cock back in, his knot stretching through the tight ring of muscle before popping inside and sealing them together. 

Tony moaned, coming back slowly from his own orgasm, and clenching weakly around the steadily growing knot. 

Loki groaned at the tightness, the erratic clenching of inner muscles around his member, jerking his hips a few times as he spilled himself into his mate, spurts after spurts filling him up with his seed. 

Even the mere  _ thought _ of it was enough to make his hips twitch with desire, as though trying to bury himself even  _ deeper _ inside his mate, as he relished the closeness, the intimacy, the way Tony’s clenching walls massaged his deliciously aching knot. 

It felt blissful, to have his cock buried in the warmth of his mate, his body protectively curling around Tony’s smaller one, cuddling him close. 

How freeing it was to be able to give free reign to his affections, to be allowed to nuzzle and kiss along the delicate skin of Tony’s throat—skin that he’d  _ marked— _ , to hold him close and breathe in the delicious scent of home, pack,  _ family.  _

He rolled to the side, laying down to catch his breath and taking his mate with him, letting him rest against his chest. His breath was heavy, he was sweaty, and full of Tony’s bodily fluids, but he couldn’t remember the last time he had felt so content. 

He nuzzled Tony’s neck, where his bite mark was already healing, and let himself bask in the satisfaction of having claimed his mate. 

_ Mine. _

The satisfaction was purely primal, echoing deep inside his belly with a pleased growling purr of his own, synching with his mate’s. 

Tony shuddered in his arms, pressing closer, whining as his limp cock twitched valiantly against their bellies, before sighing contentedly and settling back into his doze. 

Loki smirked deviously, before nibbling up the column of his mate’s neck, licking that spot behind Tony’s ear that always made him go crazy. 

After all, he had  _ months _ of teasing to get even for… 

***

Tony squirmed, moaning and clenching up around the strange feeling of fullness inside of him, the sensation of something  _ huge _ stuffing him to the brim. 

Half dozing in bliss, he tried moving around, enjoying the delicious stretch and... oh that pressed just into the right spot…

A strangled sound made him look down at his mate— _ his!— _ and made him realize exactly what it was that was inside him. 

Tony blushed to the root of his hair, and sheepishly glanced down. 

His breath caught. 

The look of obvious rapture on Loki’s face, with his eyes clenched shut with bliss and bitten lips made the banked arousal in his veins throb with renewed interest, curling embers of desire gripping his belly. 

It also gave him some devious ideas.

Slowly, carefully, Tony sat up, straddling Loki’s thighs. 

Green eyes snapped open. 

Sighing in bliss as he enjoyed the press of Loki’s knot right against his sweet spot, and the very pleasant shift of the dick inside him, Tony deliberately ignored his mate’s moans, or the hands twitching on his hips. 

And perhaps… 

If the look of bliss on Loki’s face had such an effect on him, then would it not be fair to repay the favor?

Taking his lip between his teeth and rolling his head back, Tony glanced down at Loki from below his lashes with a low moan. 

Loki’s eyes turned black with desire as he fell captive to the spell of seduction Tony was weaving. He lifted himself up on one arm and started reaching for his mate with the other... 

And then Tony started moving.

Loki fell back down with a gasp as Tony clenched around him and pulled  _ up... _ and then just as he got his breath back, Tony smirked, leaning down and putting his hands down on Loki’s chest before lightly scratching down.

Loki’s hips jerked up.

Tony almost bounced, crying out as Loki’s knot pushed against his prostate and then pulled down against his rim, making him an incoherent mess for the minute it took him to get his breath back. 

When he looked back up it was with a dark glare that promised retribution. 

Tony started undulating, circling his hips around and to the side then front to back, dragging his nails over the spots that turned the alpha into a panting mess. 

After all, Loki hadn’t been the only one taking notes during those few months of teasing. 

Loki gasped and squirmed all the while trying to be careful and not jostle Tony again. 

How thoughtful. How long would it last, Tony wondered, with what he’d planned next?

And then Tony bent down lower, and clenched down around the knot, while brushing his lips over Loki’s. 

His alpha’s breath was ragged, his claws out and tearing through the covers, and his eyes squeezed shut as he tried to control his trembling limbs. 

Tony smiled evilly and clenched down again. 

Loki whimpered. 

Tony chuckled and rubbed his nose on Loki’s neck, at the place where he’d already bitten. He moved his hips slowly up and down, as much as he could, and whispered into Loki’s ear: 

_ “My alpha.” _

And bit down on as he slammed his hips down.

Loki howled as he came again, taking his devious mate into his arms and snapping his hips up.

He rolled them back over, pinning his vixen down and growling in his face as his hips started making shallow but hard jerks, stealing Tony’s breath and his own

Tony cried out, and clung on with all his limbs, panting, sweating. Maybe, teasing the wolf  _ might _ not have been the most brilliant of ideas.

But then the results were definitely more than enjoyable. 

Loki’s hand came down between their bodies, taking hold of Tony’s shaft, the thumb rubbing under the head, twisting just a couple of times, all the while carefully monitoring his mate’s writhing form. 

Tony came again with a shout, clenching around Loki, and calling out to him desperately, scrabbling at Loki’s chest in his desperation, shuddering through the aftershocks of his orgasms and the way his skin tingled with oversensitivity. 

It was too much for Loki, his mate’s words, need, scent; the way he squeezed his knot inside him so deliciously, the bliss painted on his face… 

His second orgasm tore through him, hips stuttering as he spilled more seed inside the willing belly of his mate with a groan. 

When he was done, Loki simply draped himself over his omega, pressing him down on the mattress. Hopefully his weight would be a deterrent enough against shenanigans that they would manage to get some rest before the next round. 

Tony was giggling at his grumbling, brushing his hands through his hair, nibbling his ear. 

Impossible little thing, already insatiable. 

He would have his hands full with that one… but he wouldn’t have it any other way.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> only the epilogues left!!


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the first epilogue, second to last chapter! Thanks for everything.

She’d learned of it long after the fact, much too late to be able to do anything, even with the meager power she’d attained since then. 

It almost destroyed her. As hardened as she’d made her heart, as untouchable as she’d become, that tiny slip of a boy; that fluffy headed scamp with a bright heart who cared too much… he’d snuck his way right under her skin. 

A soul so bright he’d melted the Ice Queen’s heart. 

Of course no one could know, no one could ever suspect that there was anything Emma Frost could not bear to lose. Not with the self-appointed purpose she carried. Not with all the enemies she made herself on the daily basis. 

It meant that she’d cut ties as effectively as possible. 

It meant that she had no way of learning of her boy’s fate. 

Now, standing before the monster’s forest, the one that took the one being in the world that she cared for, she wondered if the sacrifice had been worth it. 

She had reached her goals, she’d obtained enough power to make things change, to be  _ heard.  _

She’d closed that awful Academy and every similar institution around the continent. 

She’d become so well known, so loved and hated and feared that none could ever dethrone her. 

It all felt so meaningless now. 

Were any of those things worth Tonio’s life? 

She felt like she could burn the whole world. 

He’d been the only bright thing left in her life. 

What right did all those measly low-life knotbrains  _ have _ to live on while her boy had been left to rot, savaged by wild beasts? What right did they have to  _ enjoy _ themselves, to laugh at their cleverness, those scumhearted beasts? 

They did not. 

But even vengeance felt bleak. Even walking among their destroyed homes, ambling through ash covered streets and grey snowflakes of soot was meaningless. Even crunching their bones under her boots felt  _ empty.  _

It was not enough, could never _ be  _ enough. 

Because no amount of screams could bring her boy back. 

It did not matter, of course. She could not stop until the last traces of them had been snuffed out, when the last screams turned to whimpers and finally fell silent. 

And now she stood before the dark impenetrable expanse of the woods, and helplessness caught up to her. 

She could walk on, let herself be swallowed in and destroyed the way her cub had been. She could set the forest on fire as well, burn it all to the ground, burn the entire world in its wake. 

But none of these felt satisfying. 

None of these would have made him happy. 

For the first time in her life, Emma… found herself at loss. 

Nothing she could do would let her reach her goal. Nothing could possibly bring her satisfaction. She could not even muster the motivation to look elsewhere, to find herself another goal. 

No enemies to smite, or seduce, or enthrall. No. 

There was nothing for her to do but stand there… and break. 

Break as she had not allowed herself to when her heart was broken last through the carelessness and hypocrisy of her first lover, crumpling to the floor and letting tears fill out her eyes, flowing freely to the damp earth. 

What use would burning this place down be? 

What use would anything be? 

How low she had fallen. 

She’d never understood before how people could feel so empty and unmotivated. She’d always lived as though she was walking on a burning tightrope, never looking back, never stopping or waiting, just powering through everything because there was simply no other choice. She’d become a Queen, and forged a kingdom through sheer determination. 

Only for the only subject she wished to have, die before they could be reunited. Before he could see what she’d accomplished for him. 

Before he could spread his wings and soar in the wide fields she’d created for him. 

Perhaps it was her hubris. 

_ Sentiment. _

Who would have thought that  _ this _ would be what finally brought the great Emma Frost low? After all that she’d suffered, all the indignities, all the sacrifices, the manipulations… 

It wasn’t fair. 

Nothing was fair.

What did her Tonio use to say? 

“What goes around comes around”? But the world was not round, it was a straight line  _ down. _ And they had been at the very bottom of it for so long. 

And now  _ she _ was at the top, while Tony was… 

Her Tonio was… 

Perhaps she should start looking for rainbows and honeypots. They might be easier to find than the elusive comings and goings around. 

But before that, she had a wolf to find, and perhaps, if possible, her friend’s remains to bring home. 

It was a grisly task ahead of her, but that had never stopped her before. 

And yet, this time. This time she felt rooted to the ground, her throat tight, hands trembling around her rifle. 

But she did not have the luxury of time, not to weep, not to dither, and yet, she didn’t know if she could stomach what she would find. 

If she found anything. 

She did not know which would be worse. 

She didn’t recognize herself. Hesitation was not in her nature, nor was stalling the inevitable. 

She crossed the threshold, shivering slightly as the shadows fell over her like a silken veil, eyes closing automatically to adjust to the reduced light. 

But the cold did not last and brightness shone through her closed lids. 

Emma blinked her eyes open. 

The forest was light, airy. Old. 

Unbelievable. It had looked so forbidding and impenetrable from the outside, and yet it didn’t feel that way at all once she’d stepped in. 

In fact it rather felt like those mystical forests from the fairytales she used to smuggle to her cub before he outgrew them and she brought him science books instead. 

The trees were too big, too sparse to match those she’d seen before, the colors were  _ off,  _ this felt like the depths of the wildlands, the places so remote that no human hands had ever disturbed them. 

Not at all like the few narrow trunks that spelled the crossing between civilization and the woods. 

This was all wrong. 

Something a lot like terror snatched her breath, if Emma was ever the type of person to feel fear. 

As it was, she forced her breath out, turning around slowly and confirming her suspicions. 

The way back had disappeared. She was stuck in the middle of this place, as though the treeline had been a portal to a completely different place instead of a simple line of trees. 

What was going on? 

“Emma?”

She swung back around, the gun falling from her limp hands as she gasped, eyes watering at the sight she thought she’d never get to see. 

Here was her cub, all grown up, and loose with the demeanor of one who did not need to watch their every step, carefree in a way one could only be in a place they felt safe. 

She’d never seen Tonio quite that free before. 

She liked the look, even though she found it hard to believe. 

And then, strong but familiar arms curled around her frozen form, coiling around her in a way that felt both familiar and strange, arms too long, too high, too strong, and yet a similar enthusiasm and trust in their hold. 

It felt strong, reassuring, and for the first time, she let herself find comfort in his arms instead of providing it, shivering with the aftermath of grief and fear, comforting herself in his warm presence. 

It couldn’t be real, and yet her senses were not lying. Perhaps this was the afterlife, but everything felt too vivid, too raw, too physical, down to the musky scent of mossy earth and undergrowth. 

She inhaled deeply in the crook of her Tonio’s neck, finding the smell of family, her own imprint still as fresh as it was years ago underlying Tony’s... 

Tony smelled… 

Emma blinked. 

He smelled _ mated.  _

And happily so. 

Leaning back from Tony’s embrace without breaking his hold, Emma stared down her cub with a raised eyebrow. 

The resulting blush was rather gratifying, and much too endearing for a grown man to be able to pull off. 

_ Where _ was the fairness in this world? 

But as her boy stuttered his way through his tale and guided her to his den in order to meet his partner, she rather thought that, perhaps there was justice to the world, after all. 

Her boy was alive, happy and healthy. He looked at home in this strange place, moving through the land the way a wild beast would, all lithe predatory grace and quiet confidence, and she couldn’t help but feel inordinately proud of the man he’d grown into, even though he would always remain the fluffy haired scamp that had befriended her with a pilfered cookie. 

He’d reached his dream of a happy family and ‘one true love’, and now, Emma even had the chance to deliver said alpha her own brand of a shovel talk.

Though she did not doubt that her cub was perfectly able to extract a more than satisfying revenge on his own, nor was it entirely unlikely that Tony himself had been the one to ensnare and seduce the infamous Forest God. She’d all but raised the boy, after all. 

Still, she would enjoy playing the role; and making the show would at least secure Tony’s position. 

And she wanted to see for herself what manner of man could bring that besotted smile on her cub’s face. It could prove to be entertaining. 

Yes, perhaps, the two of them could have their happy ending in the end. 


	17. Chapter 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So. I might be posting this a couple days early because life will definitely get hectic soon, so better early than late!  
> Here you go, the second epilogue and last chapter of Where The Wild Things Are (otherwise known as Wolf Loki for those who followed its early days. Really original 'title in process', right?)

The pitter patter of tiny feet greeted her even before she’d announced her presence. 

“Aunt Emma!” 

Squealing voices rang through the forest, filled with the enthusiasm of youth and the exuberance of those who had never been asked to be silent and obey their betters. With the happiness of those who would never have to doubt the love of their families. 

Every time she came there, those voices reminded her of what and  _ who  _ she was fighting for. All those hours on her throne and in her study, poring over her documents, laws and bylaws, disputes and strategies, all of this was so that kids like those could have a future in her world. So that it could become a country where every kid was that carefree, regardless of gender or designation. 

Still, those two scamps would always be her favorite, perhaps because they would be the closest thing she could ever have to children of her own. 

The two bundles of flailing limbs crashed into her shins, tangling in her skirts amidst mad childish laughter before strong arms caught them around the waist and hoisted them each on a hip. 

Loki looked back at her with a wry smile and two recalcitrant toddlers. 

“Queen Frost. It’s a pleasure as always. Anthony will join us soon.”

Emma smirked back impishly, enjoying the God’s harried countenance. Twins were certainly not the most restful of charges, and already they were flailing about, hands reaching out for their ‘auntie’. 

She rather enjoyed the role, and the change of pace from stuffy banquets and poisonous courtly talk. 

Their forest was her safe haven. 

It was her home. 

“I can wait”

And her brother-in-law was deliciously easy to tease. 

Playing with her nephews, playing fetch with the big bad wolf, eating some truly delicious apple pie, enjoying the sun on her face… 

Tonio nestled himself at her side, cuddling against her on the picnic blanket. Emma glanced down. 

His eyes were trained on the kids, tender but watchful as they mounted an assault on their father, grappling at paws and climbing up the furry back while Loki carefully swung them around. 

“We’ve come a long way, huh?”

Emma hummed, wondering where her cub was going with this. 

“From the Academy, I mean.” 

She blinked, turning back to face him. 

Tony rarely ever spoke of that time, usually preferring to leave the past and those memories buried. The Academy was a pile of ashes, after all, and so were Howard, Ty and Shaw, and with them, every other knothead who got in Emma’s way. 

But there was something strange in her boy’s eyes, some seed of nostalgia, almost. He kept caressing the worn cuffs on his wrists, almost absentmindedly, in a way he hadn’t in a few years. 

“What brought this on?”

She pitched her voice low, soothing, the same way she used to do in those dusty classrooms, what felt like forever ago. 

He sighed, leaning his head back against her shoulder and smiling wryly up at her. 

“...it’s been ten years.”

Emma blinked. 

“Ten years since I was sold to a wild beast in the woods, since I was starved and choked into compliance and dragged out to meet my wolf.” 

Tony sighed, slumping. 

“I don’t recognize myself anymore. I’m… soft. Trusting, carefree. I… am I still the wild cub you cared for or have I truly become the tamed kitten?”

Emma snorted. How very like her Tonio to worry about something that ridiculous. 

She let her hands parse through his curls, soothing, petting. 

“You have achieved the peace you were aiming for, that is not a bad thing. It is good to have a place to relax, somewhere you know you don’t need to watch your back, where you can keep your claws sheathed. Even for me.” 

She paused, taking the time to pick her words carefully. 

“I think you are just as untamed as you were on the first day we met, and that should anyone ever threaten your nest, they will find you just as dangerous as your wolf-mate.”

She smirked, amused.

“A little peace cannot change your nature.” 

Looking back in Tony’s worried eyes, as golden as her own and yet so different, so much softer than the ice chips she’d used to cut down men three times her size, she couldn’t help but add, in a secretive murmur: 

“It reassures me, in a way. You were never truly suited for the snake pit, not like I was. You were always so terribly competent, you navigated them with unparalleled ease, but each time it felt as though you were leaving a piece of you behind. Little chips of your heart littering the ballroom.” 

Her voice went soft, distant. She wasn’t seeing the warm forest anymore, but the brittle edges of a wounded boy who smirked at his own tricks even as his eyes begged her for another way. 

No, Tony had never relished the art of destruction the way she did. He’d never wanted to burn the world down, or to take his revenge. 

He’d wanted to save it. 

But, she knew, she  _ knew _ that in doing so, he would have destroyed himself in the process. He would have given too much, sacrificed it all, and cut himself open with guilt for the sacrifices he would have had to make.

And that was why Emma had taken it upon herself to do it in his stead. 

She was not an idealist like him, nor was she nearly as soft. There was a reason people called her the Ice Queen with the Iron Fist. 

She had no claim on doing what needed to be done and cutting down every obstacle in her path. 

She did not care what people had to say about her, did not care that they thought she had no heart. 

They could never know her heart was there, in that in-between Forest, with people just as wild as she was who accepted her unconditionally. 

“Hey, Em?”

A few blinks dispelled the ghosts of their shared past, Tony’s sheepish face greeting her back to the present. 

“Sorry for being such a downer on your vacation time.”

She shook her head. 

“Sometimes it is good to see how far one has come in order to better appreciate the gift of our present.” 

Her smile was still soft and melancholy, but slowly brightening with the squeals of happy children running from Loki playacting a villainous troll. 

There was only one thing left to say before serious discussions were tabled for a later time.

“You know, you can always come to me. For anything.”

Tony smiled back, as bright as the sun. 

“I know.”

_ THE END. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks everyone for following this story!

**Author's Note:**

> Feel free to leave a comment and tell me what you thought!  
> I hope you enjoyed :3


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